


A third chance

by Xaori



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Amnesia, Canon Divergence, Claire has a bad habit, Drama, F/M, Family, RE6 rewrite, Romance, So does Chris but we're used to it already, We want Chris to be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-01-24 13:16:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21338851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xaori/pseuds/Xaori
Summary: The fifteen years of fighting bioterrorism didn’t go by without leaving obvious marks on Chris Redfield, but when he hits his head in Edonia he gets the chance to reset the counter to zero — and finally be happy again. Rewrite of the lost time between Chris’ RE6 campaign chapters.
Relationships: Chris Redfield/Jill Valentine, Piers Nivans/Claire Redfield
Comments: 87
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [irithyll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irithyll/gifts).
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually write stories that follow the canon timeline and add details to it that make the stories more belieavable. With this work, though, I'm leaving my comfort zone and alter RE6. I can't promise it will be convincing, but I have some of the best <strike>canon-destroyers</strike> canon divergence authors as moral support, so nothing can go really wrong.
> 
> Right?
> 
> I hope you have fun.

"He was running recon. _Alone_."

Chris could practically hear how the young man rolled his eyes as he spoke, devaluing the fallen team member and his insubordination to _zero _against the leftover soldiers. No wonder. Piers Nivans had been following his orders like a faithful and helpless puppy ever since he'd been recruited by the B.S.A.A. and he knew better than anyone that orders were issued to be followed. He probably had some pretty sick daddy issues and saw such an insanely big father figure in his Captain that he did exactly what he said. Not once had he disobeyed one of his orders and Chris was positive that young Nivans would throw himself out of the closest window if he just asked him to.

Quite a hilarious thought given the fact that Jill had once done the very same. Not that he'd asked her to jump, of course. She had done that all by herself.

The freezing cold burnt his nostrils and down into his lungs every time he tried to breathe. The shitty weather was one of the most significant reasons why Edonia was the last destination he'd like to have chosen for his Christmas holidays, right after the Civil War with included bioweapons and the disgusting food, probably. Those Eastern Europeans were simply not capable of making a good steak and they even praised their mashed vegetables like it was _haute cuisine_.

The snow had stopped falling some time ago, but a thick layer of white still covered the landscape and made the tactical preparation an impossible task. Those who wanted to play superheroes and ran into their missions like bulldozers on LSD to the sound of their own war cries were no help to the team for obvious reasons. Unfortunately, they were usually the first ones to become B.O.W. food. Like Tinman, whose lifeless body was carried away from the frightened looks of the rest of the soldiers, leaving them questioning their choice to join the B.S.A.A. Chris sighed out a nebula of condensation as he looked around the remaining team members. It was time to give them some hope, it seemed.

"Listen up!" Fuck! He would sell his sister to get back to being a S.O.A., only responsible for oneself. "In the B.S.A.A., our job is to rid the world of bioterrorism and the only way we're gonna do that is by sticking together."

It was the only option they had to avoid any further suicide attempts.

"Nobody's expendable." Chris looked up in surprise. Had _he _just said that? The heads of the men in front of him turned slightly to the right. Okay, it had been Piers who had completed his sentence.

"Exactly," Chris added, swallowing down the tired tone in his voice, "Now each and every one of you may be ready to die for our cause, but my job is to make sure we all get through this alive."

How did Wesker withstand being Captain of a troupe as lame as S.T.A.R.S.? Though, to be fair, the S.T.A.R.S. teams had been so much funnier, back when bioterrorism wasn't even a thing to the modern world. There had been Speyer and his unexhausted persistence to get into Jill's pants, Barry making fun of Wesker behind his back, and, of course, Jill Valentine, with that irresistible sway of her hips and the cute way her nose wrinkled when something upset her. Yep, he'd had a great time with S.T.A.R.S.—until that bioterrorism shit had been unleashed.

A whimper drew his attention to the right. The newbie, a kid of about twenty with a big nose and narrow piggie eyes, couldn't stand the field-typical tension, apparently. Chris' teeth gnashed together in agitation. One day, you were bringing down Albert Wesker, the most dangerous terrorist on the planet, and the following day, you needed to talk young men into fighting next to you. He had been able to stop Claire from joining the B.S.A.A—with restricted success, as she had become a TerraSave operative instead and was often closer to danger zones than he himself—but he couldn't tell those kids to go back home. Considering what was the best thing to say to such a young creature, he eventually ran out of feigned positivism and started mouthing silent curses.

He just wished they would all shut up and let him do the fucking job _alone_.

"Suck it up, Finn!"

That had been Piers again. Chris released his breath as he watched him take care of the young man and his whining. Good puppy. The Captain suddenly remembered why he had made young Nivans his second-in-command. Maybe he would like to have his job once he retired.

_Retirement_. That sounded even better than _S.O.A_.

Finn apologized for his weakness and nodded at Chris, who returned the gesture.

"No one gets left behind. Not on my watch."

A snowflake fell curlily down to the floor and landed on the tip of his boot. It would soon start to snow again.

Hopefully, the snow would bring the needed change this time.

* * *

"Alright, yeah. I get it."

Jill's eyelids grew heavy under the throbbing pain in her temple. She couldn't recall how long she had been working before the fateful call had interrupted her musings. She'd expected bad news about Edonia, that was true, but _this_?

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. We'll be there as soon as possible." She hung up and massaged her front with weary, circular moves, trying to rub the ache away.

They had always known something bad would happen, hadn't they? They had been defying evil for almost fifteen years and, despite the occasional, casual misstep such as the Spencer Estate, they had been victorious most of the time. Perhaps some greater force believed they had run around unharmed for too long. It was a pity that everything had to end like this.

The phone dangled weakly between her sweaty fingertips as she scrolled through the contact list. As usual, it was up to her to fix the desperate situation someone else had gotten himself into. Her eyes jumped briefly to the clock on the office wall, wondering how much of a bad idea it was to make a phone call at 3 am given the bad temper of the one whose sleep she was bound to disturb. Searching for the right words to say, Jill dialed the number and pressed the phone to her ear.

One, two, three tones later, someone on the other end picked up.

"Wha?"

"Claire, it's Jill."

Something squeaked, cloth was ripped away, and Jill knew the younger Redfield was practically standing on the mattress.

"What happened?"

Jill sighed, her voice trembling under the responsibility.

"Chris' team got attacked and-"

"Is he dead?" Jill had to swallow as she was confronted with the sudden question her friend interrupted her tale with.

There was hope in Claire's shaking words, but if it was hope that the answer was negative or that her constant suffering and concern about her brother would finally come to an end was unclear. The blonde sighed.

"No," she whispered and heard Claire release her breath, "He hit his head and is in a coma."

A grunt rattled through the line as the redhead cleared her throat.

"Coma? Holy shit, Chris! Can't they leave you alone for one fucking minute?"

Jill prayed that the hint of sadness in Claire's eager swearing wasn't a product of her own imagination. What had happened to the once so close bond the Redfield siblings had forged over the years after their parents' passing?

"Claire, we should fly to Edonia."

Dark laughter followed a silent cry.

"Edonia? Of all the places in the world, he chose to get ground to shit in _Edonia_?" The short, shallow breaths she took didn't concede her enough air to speak fluently. "You need me to sign papers, I assume."

In case he died, yes; or in case they believed he'd never wake up.

"Yes."

Claire sighed.

"You know? He wasn't there when I came back from Sejm Island last year."

The sting of anger, once pointed directly at her brother, was now turned toward Jill, and the blonde simply couldn't blame her. There were things that Chris had been more protective about when he'd been younger.

"He was busy, but Barry was giving him an update every hour."

Claire sighed in response.

"And now you want me to leave everything behind on Christmas Eve and fly to the other fucking side of the planet to bury my brother? I'm not even sure if he'd want me to be there."

Jill drew small circles onto a paper as she let Claire shoot her rage at her. "Don't say that. Chris loves you."

The circles became bigger and more irregular as she pressed out the half-hearted persuasion attempt. Jill wouldn't doubt the feelings Chris harbored for his little sister, and it wasn't as disastrous as the redhead was painting it, but their relationship had indeed lost a lot of their closeness over the years. The soft laugh Claire gave in response soon melted into the whimper of a tear-flooded cry.

"When are we leaving?"

* * *

The insistent flicker of the halogen lamp in that hospital hallway was driving him nuts. As if the whole situation itself hadn't been depressing enough, they had put his Captain with his head injury and all those breathing tubes into the last room of a sad, grey corridor on the underground floor. At least there he was safe from the stinging smell of piss, vomit and blood that reigned in what supposedly was the emergency room.

They had left him alone with this mess. Alone and in charge of everything. Once he had gotten Chris out of the reach of the stone B.O.W.S., their teammates had turned into that City Hall in Edonia. The sad rest of Alpha team had been released from the mission and he and Chris had been sent to the closest hospital, where half of the staff there had treated Chris' severe injuries despite being busy with other survivors of their ongoing civil war. He had been lucky, they said; he could have died, but none of the good words were particularly soothing as nobody could guarantee that he was actually going to make it.

Piers put his face into his palms and sighed. He had been trained for any possible outcome on the field, but the feeling of helplessness that was slowly crawling up his body made him wonder if he was really ready for the role he was bound to play. He had gotten Chris out, checked all necessary documentation, brought his Captain to the hospital, and notified homebase. He had done everything he needed to do and, instead of the usual pat on the shoulder, he was only rewarded with more burdens to carry.

It wasn't until he had spoken to Jill Valentine that he had really felt supported. People said she was resolute, quick and precise in everything she did, willing to do all in her power to complete a job, but they had been wrong. Jill Valentine was much more than that; she was the worn-out angel the BSAA needed amongst their rows, the savior who entered when everything seemed hopeless, and the mother figure that completed Chris' fatherly role as Captain. Piers genuinely felt much safer now that Valentine had promised to come. He checked his watch to confirm that the wait was nearly over and that Jill Valentine would soon take care of _everything_.

He turned his head at the approaching sound of heels dashing emphatically over the hospital floor and spotted two female figures. One was Jill and the other, unsurprisingly, was Chris' sister. Hands on his knees, Piers hefted his weight up and forced himself onto his feet to greet the two women, his energy clearly drawn from his wasted body. Jill was the first to speak.

"Piers, it's so good to see you. Are you injured?" She asked, pointing at the bandage that peeked out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

The young man shyly rubbed his neck and shook his head.

"It's just a scratch," he responded, "I didn't even notice I had gotten it until I was out."

Turning his attention to Claire and the dark look in her eyes, he needed to swallow hard before greeting the redhead. "Claire, I… I'm so sorry."

He had met the younger Redfield some months before when Terra Save had visited their unit because of a collaboration and his comrades hadn't stopped bringing up their Captain's beautiful sister in their obscene daily talks ever since. It hadn't taken him long to see her worried self behind the feigned delight and forced smiles back then, but now she wasn't even trying to hide her concern. The shadows restless nights had printed onto the skin under her eyes could be seen from outer space and she sighed deeply before she even began to speak. However, a weak smile preceded the very first attempt.

"Don't be. You did everything you could. Jill said you were the one who took him out. Thank you." With one hand on his shoulder, she squeezed more discomfort into his body, putting him at alert before turning her head to the door beside them. "How is he?"

He began to shake his head until everything around him seemed to turn. Chris had been stabilized, but hadn't woken up yet, leaving doctors, nurses and himself facing the question of '_what now?'_ So far, nobody could tell when he would wake up again or _if _he'd ever wake up again.

"He should have woken up already."

Claire's face distorted into a painful grimace as she tried to smile, the hand on his shoulder tightening the grasp under the cruelty of the circumstances.

"Can we see him?" She spoke in a plea full of hope, receiving a nod in exchange.

"Yes, sure." Piers muttered. "We can only enter one at a time, though, they said. Something about too much stimulation being harmful."

Jill sighed behind them.

"Claire, why don't you go first?" She suggested and pushed the pitiful patient's sister towards the door. "I'll stay here with Piers."

Once Claire had disappeared into the room, Jill turned back to the handful of misery the young lieutenant was. He had taken a seat again and little more than hung on the chair with his head so low it nearly brushed his knees.

"Hey, Piers."

Turning his head up in a weary move, Piers forced a smile and sighed deeply.

"Agent Valentine."

That name tickled her lips, causing them to softly widen into a smirk.

"I'm not here as BSAA employee, Piers, but as his friend. Call me Jill."

Rewarding her with a grateful nod, Piers waited until the blonde dropped into the chair next to his. Elbows on his knees, he propped up his chin in a way it made him look so innocent and helpless that Jill felt pity for the young man. He was just a kid. Sure, he was a couple years older than she herself had been when she'd run into the mansion in the Arklay mountains, but had she ever really been alone since then? No. Even after losing their Captain and being technically headless, S.T.A.R.S. had always been a team watching over each other. Chris, Rebecca, Barry and herself had never lost contact and were always there when the others needed assistance or simply an ear to listen. Piers, however, hadn't just only lost his teammates, but was also now responsible for Alpha team or whatever was left of it. Jill reached for the young man's shoulder and patted it in the most manly way she could manage—like she imagined Chris would do it.

"You did well out there," she whispered, "Hadn't it been for you, he would be dead now."

The young man just sighed repeatedly, sometimes letting his tongue dart out in an attempt to moisten his dry lips between breaths.

"He's as good as dead." His hands balled into fists under his chin. "Had we been more attentive, that woman wouldn't have even gotten that far…"

Jill's eyes narrowed at his words. She hadn't asked many questions about what exactly had happened, expecting that she'd be informed soon enough. Every piece of intel was new to her.

"What woman?"

* * *

Claire wondered how many tubes could possibly be inserted into one man as she traced their path from the beeping machines to her brother's form. It wasn't the first time she had visited someone in the hospital, of course—just a few months before, she had been with Leon when he'd returned from ESR, kicking around like a crybaby because he didn't want to carry his several broken ribs to rehab, but it had never been her brother, and it had never been _that_ bad. She grabbed his hand, flicking her thumb over the cannula that perforated his skin in search for a vein.

"You fucking idiot," she hissed, holding back tears, "You never forgave me for fucking up your New Year's Eve in 1998, did you? Do you have to ruin Christmas for me every single year?" A quiet sob released itself from her shaking lips. "You better wake up, you hear me? You better wake up or I'll make sure that you're buried next to Brad Vickers."

That was, technically, impossible, as Vickers' zombified body had been blasted to mousse along with the rest of Raccoon City's 1998 population. But there was, indeed, some sort of tombstone for every one of the fallen S.T.A.R.S. members, including Vickers, on the private B.S.A.A. graveyard.

Claire checked her phone for new messages, disappointed by the emptiness of her home screen.

"You know…Sherry's missing. The F.O.S. notified me that she was in Edonia escorting someone and…now they lost contact with her." She sighed, pulling out a piece of nicotine gum. "Bad time for me to quit smoking, I guess. Hunnigan's a sweetheart. I don't know how she handles all the government shit and still finds time to text me. I assume Leon told her to keep me informed. Sure, he himself doesn't have time for this…personal stuff."

Chewing in silence, Claire leaned back in the chair and watched her brother for a while. When had everything gotten so weird between them? They had been inseparable after their parents' death and, for so long, it had been just Chris and her. But, over the years, she had slowly been replaced by his work, by Jill, by the B.S.A.A.—which he had forbidden her to join—and, eventually, by boys like Piers Nivans who called Jill instead of her to break the news about Chris' state. Everything had started after Jill's tragic accident, she remembered, when Chris had tried to drink himself to death in shady bars on a nightly basis. He had pushed her away after she'd thrown out some hooker whose thighs she'd found her brother between one morning and their relationship had never been the same after that—not even after Jill's return. After all the insults and accusations he'd fought his sister off with, she had promised to herself to never intervene again. She hadn't, but she was always close in case he'd call her.

"I love you, Chris." Her voice was weak and low as she spoke, taking his hand into hers and pressing their palms together. "And I miss my big brother. Please get well. I need you."

She sat there for a while, wiping off the occasional tear that fought its way out, until Chris' hand squeezed hers back.

* * *

"A woman showed up out of nowhere and Chris had you escort her?" Jill hissed in disbelief at the story Piers told her. "Goddamnit, hasn't he learned anything in all these years?"

"He told me to keep an eye on her, Jill. He knew she wasn't someone worthy of his trust, but he couldn't risk being wrong and getting an innocent soul killed." Piers' head dropped lower. "We lost four innocent soldiers instead. If only I had been more vigilant…"

Jill clenched her teeth in anger. Some bitch was running around Edonia, throwing needle bombs at B.S.A.A. soldiers and god knows who else. However, it could have been much worse than it was. Chris and Piers could have gotten infected, turned, and killed as well, and they would have had no clue who was behind the attack. Now, with Piers' testimony, they had a chance at locating the culprit.

Jill inhaled deeply. Piers Nivans had always been known for his ice-cold professionalism among the B.S.A.A. rows—proven by his quick rise to Chris' second-in-command after only one year in the organization—but he was blaming himself for their failure now. It was one of Chris' character traits that she recognized in the young soldier.

"Don't torture yourself, Piers. We can't always win."

She had expected to find sadness and disappointment on his face, but the surprise was enormous. Piers Nivans didn't suffer nor cry. The eyes she met when he looked up were full of hatred and anger, a promise to become better and find the culprit of this chaos. She saw the determination in his look and couldn't help but admire him for it. Piers Nivans was not only a talented sniper, but he was also a resolute soldier who could handle any situation with cool-headed brilliancy, and Jill felt she had been too quick in offering him her pity.

"We are lucky to have you on our side, Nivans."

His eyebrow shot up in confusion. On their side? Whose side would he be on if not theirs? The B.S.A.A. meant everything to him, as his recruitment had saved him from constantly hitting a wall in the Army's Special Forces. However, he didn't want to argue with one of the founding members over being given such a huge compliment. With a shy smirk on his lips, he simply replied with a grateful nod and accepted Jill's positive judgement of his actions and presence in the B.S.A.A., but the blonde's encouraging words and demeanor soon turned into a dark shade of concern.

"Do you remember what that woman looked like? We should probably create a profile to know who we're after and begin the hunt for her."

A grim headshake followed as Piers clenched his teeth.

"No need to, Jill. He said, kneading his fist. "The name of the woman who attacked us is Ada Wong."

Jill's eyes widened in astonishment and she began to gasp for air, but, before she could react, an alarm rang loudly through the corridor and the door to Chris' room was pulled open. Claire's ponytail swung excitedly as the redhead yelled for a nurse to come and Jill and Piers were on their feet as fast as a lighting bolt could possibly hit.

"He's waking up!" Claire shouted, searching for the medical staff she had called. "He's convulsing and trying to pull the tubes out!"

Luckily, only seconds later a couple of nurses came running into the room, pushing Claire back as she tried to get inside with them. Jill took her by the wrist and held her close to herself. Claire, although unable to ever admit it, was as hotheaded and impulsive as Chris himself and she would have loved to help, even though she knew that she'd only be in the way. The blonde observed tiny sweat drops on Claire's forehead and knew just how anxious she really was, but it wasn't until they heard Chris scream on the other side of the door that Claire stopped struggling. Paralyzed and breathless, she stared at the door in shock.

"What is happening to him?" She shivered under Jill's touch and the blonde turned back to Piers, whose eyes showed as much fear as Claire's.

"Nivans, take her out."

It was best if they both just left and relaxed. Piers needed to rest as much as Claire did and they couldn't do anything for Chris anyway.

"No!" Claire emphatically shook her head. "I can't…"

But Jill grabbed both of her shoulders and forced her to look at her.

"Claire, listen. It's okay. I'll stay here, you take a break. You have gone through a lot with Sherry missing. He'll be fine. I'll stay."

Claire was still shaking her head when Piers laid his arm around her shoulders, softly guiding her towards the exit under the warm look of Jill. The blonde pushed her back against the wall next to the door as she heard Chris' screams.

"Who the _fuck_ are you? Where am I? Shit! Let me get out of here! I'm late for work!"

Jill couldn't help but giggle despite the circumstances. Even though he had only been conscious for mere minutes and was likely confused and in pain, Chris still had the job on his mind. It was a pity, she thought, that Chris had ended like this. When they'd met in S.T.A.R.S., he had been full of life, willing to enjoy every moment with his friends and family. Now, she wondered if he even had anyone he considered a friend. Sure, he was respected and appreciated by many because of his kind nature—the men in his team saw him like a big brother—but Jill doubted there were people Chris considered to be close friends. Of course, there was Barry and herself, and he surely loved his sister, but they were all stuck so deep in bioterrorism that their relationship had become toxic.

From further down the corridor, a doctor and a male nurse came running, and the latter took Jill by the shoulder.

"_Fameelee off Cquiss Wetfeeld_?"

It took her a second to understand that the young man was trying to speak to her in broken English. Sadly ignoring the fact that, at this point in their story, her best chance to become part of Chris' Redfield's family was to marry Claire, Jill nodded.

"As good as that."

The man looked at her in confusion, but soon rewarded her with a smile, waving towards the room door.

"_Pleesz helpe_."

Helping? Jill followed the nurse into the room, wondering what she could possibly help with, when the image in front of her gave her all the answers she needed. One of the two nurses from before and the doctor were trying to hold Chris down as the other nurse tied his right arm to the bed. He was screaming, yelling words and insults she had thought long forgotten by anyone in the world, and he was so close to punching the nurse that Jill had to admire the girl's bravery. Some men in the military had gotten medals of honor for less dangerous missions. Without hesitating any longer, Jill ran to the opposite side of the bed and grabbed a hold of Chris shaking left leg.

"Chris!" She yelled, trying to catch her old friend's attention. "Chris, listen to me! It's _fine_. You're in the hospital and these people are here to help you!"

The Alpha team Captain kicked into the air once more before his eyes met Jill's. Two pairs of a different blue stared at each other, bewilderment written into the air between them until the woman managed to smile warmly.

"It'll be okay. You just hit your head."

Chris stopped struggling and the medical team slowly released their hold on him, Jill being the only one who remained in physical contact. She stroked over his shin with soft, caressing movements as the doctor proceeded to check on his patient. Chris held still as his pupils met the intimidating shine of the light and the doctor muttered something in the local slav language that Jill couldn't decipher. The male nurse put his hand onto her shoulder and mouthed a weak _thank you_ as she dropped onto the edge of the bed, her hand still working Chris's leg in a reassuring gesture.

"How _awe _you feeling, _Mistur Wedfeeld_?"

Chris just pointed at his head in response, grimacing slightly as he informed the nurse about the pain he still felt. Any other questions they asked him remained unanswered though and Jill just watched how they finished their exploration on her longtime friend.

When they proceeded to leave the room and give Chris some time to rest, Jill stayed, giving him a comforting smile.

"It'll be alright." She whispered. "You'll be fine. Do you remember anything?"

Chris hesitated, eventually shaking his lowered head.

"It's okay," Jill said, smiling wryly even though she herself wasn't convinced by her words.

"Jill." He spoke softly, shaking his head. "What happened?"

The blonde tilted her head.

"You had an accident on a mission." She explained in a soft, caring voice. She decided it was best not to tell Chris right away that his comrades had been killed if he didn't remember it. "You hit your head and were unconscious for two days."

Chris, however, grimaced and shook his head again.

"I mean, what happened to _you_?" He huffed out a laugh. "You look so pale. Are you okay?"

Before Jill could recall the last time Chris _actually_ inquired about her well-being, she was hit by his next, destroying question. "What have you done to your hair?"

A wide-eyed expression hit him as Jill began to sort her thoughts. Her hair? Did he mean…?

"I mean, that blond looks good on you, but what was wrong with your natural color?"

She felt like the air around her became insufficient to fill her lungs. Checking discreetly if Chris was making fun of her, she soon concluded that he wasn't. He was goddamn seriously ignoring the fact that the platinum-blond _was_ her natural color now.

"Chris, I have been wearing my hair like this for years. Don't you remember?"

No, he didn't. He stared at her astonishedly and huffed out a disbelieving laugh.

"That can't be. Just yesterday…" He paused as Jill's words about him being unconscious for several days came back to him. "Just the other day, Wesker told you to chop it off and it was brown."

That name. They had never spoken about it, but, even though long defeated, their former Captain and archenemy had somehow become unnamable among the survivors of S.T.A.R.S. However, that wasn't what upset her the most about Chris' statement, as she remembered pretty well when Wesker had told her to cut her hair for the last time.

"Chris," she said with a shaking voice, "What day do you think it is?"

Chris' pupils began to dance to the almost audible exercise his brain was doing and Jill didn't expect him to even answer. The bigger surprise came when Chris began to nod eagerly.

"Wednesday must have been the last day I was conscious. You say I was out for two days, so, uhm...Friday, it's Friday." He smiled proudly as he mistook Jill's nod that meant to invite him to continue for a confirmation of his theory. "Friday, July 24th, 1998."


	2. Chapter 2

"What did you say?"

Jill couldn't get her eyes to close as she stared at Chris in shock, waiting for any sign from him that would confirm he hadn't really said what she'd just believed to hear.

"Friday, July 24th, 1998," Chris repeated his last words. "Or is it Saturday already?"

Not often had she been as speechless as she was now, there in that hospital room in Edonia. Chris had woken up believing they were still in 1998, before they had lost the lives they'd lived until then by running into the Spencer Mansion, and he most probably didn't remember anything of what had occurred to them later either. Eyes narrowed into a grimace, Jill tilted her head, defragmenting the harddrive in her head to reorganize her thoughts.

"Chris, it's…"

She didn't get the chance to tell him what year it actually was as the door was kicked open vehemently and Claire stormed into the room, the phone tightly pressed to her ear as she nearly threw herself onto the bed.

"Chris! I'm so happy you're awake!" She yelped at her confused brother, who was turning pale as snow when his eyes met the grown-up redhead. Jill saw how shocked he was to find that his sister had long peeled off the last hint of _teen _she'd ever worn, clenching his teeth unwillingly at the sight of the tough, imposing woman underneath. Claire, however, was too busy with someone on the phone to actually pay much attention to the frightened face of her older sibling. "Leon! You rat! Take my fucking call. We have to speak a serious word about your girlfriend! Oh, fuck!" She combed her hair out of her face as she kept storming through the room. It seemed she had already been told about the author of the recent tragedy Chris' Alpha team had fallen victim to. Piers came in just after Claire, preferring to stay close to the door as if he feared the redhead might start to throw things.

"Captain!" He quickly greeted Chris at the first chance he saw when Claire interrupted her phoneterror. His face showed nothing but relief.

"Listen well!" Claire shouted into the phone. "I can leave you a million voice mails if I want. Ada attacked the B.S.A.A. and I swear to god, you're gonna tell me where to find her so I can break her fucking neck with my own hands…"

Chris' hazy look jumped from Claire to Piers and back. His mouth opened and closed in steady moves and Jill could have sworn he had stopped blinking at the image of his adult sister and the stranger. Sure, she herself had changed a lot physically, but her skin was still smooth and firm, while age had left more obvious fingerprints on Claire's beautiful face and features. It was the first time Chris was confronted with the reality of the _present_, finding that his baby sister wasn't a baby anymore and—Jill's look drifted to Piers—that another man suddenly addressed him as _Captain_. She intuitively reached for Chris' balled fist and held it, causing her friend to turn to her in seek of an explanation.

"It's okay, I'll explain when Claire hangs up," she whispered. "But you don't have to worry." She spoke those words without really believing them, nor believing that they would actually help ease Chris' concern. However, the older Redfield, as brave as he'd always been, gave her a tortured smile and waited for Claire to end her call.

"Asshole!" the redhead hissed as farewell, tossing the device into her handbag before dropping onto the edge of the bed and reaching for her brother's stiff hand. "Hey," she whispered, her expression soft. "How are you feeling? Does your head hurt?"

Chris just glanced back at the redhead, evidently unaware that she was speaking to _him_ until she called his name for the third time.

"Chris what's wrong? Don't you feel well?"

Jill jumped onto her feet and rang the bell for the nurses to come, considering that she'd waited long enough to get someone to check on Chris. Claire threw her a skeptical glance and Jill turned back to the three people in the room, unsure which of them looked more frightened.

"Listen," she said. "I think Chris has some sort of amnesia."

Pain and pity popped onto Claire's and Piers' faces, while the alluded himself showed astonishment. Jill, in an attempt to control the situation, invited the other two people to have a seat as a friendly thumb flicked over the back of Chris' hand.

"Chris," she said with a serious demeanor. "We're not in 1998."

Her words caused Claire's mouth to drop open and Piers seemed to freeze on the spot. Chris, however, was the one who gave the most intense reaction, as fear and sorrow climbed up his face and his eyes began to jump from Jill to Claire and back.

"And… what year is it?" He asked without looking at anyone once the facial inspection had concluded. Claire swallowed hard and pressed her palms onto the hands she was holding in a tight sandwich grip.

"2012," she whispered and gave him a warm, frightened glance. "Almost 2013, actually."

Chris inhaled through wide nostrils, his chest growing under the deep breath he was taking, and shook his head in disbelief.

"That can't be," he said huffing out a laugh. "It was 1998 just yesterday."

In that moment the door opened and the doctor from before entered with the English-speaking male nurse in tow. The medic gave the three of them signs to leave the room for a minute as the nurse began to speak comforting words to Chris. While Jill and Piers walked out at the first petition, Claire was reluctant to leave her brother alone with two people who were strangers to him. Once pulled out of the room by Jill, she propped her head against the wall.

"1998?" she whispered and looked at Jill out of the corner of her eyes. "But… when in 1998?"

Jill sighed. Arms crossed in front of her chest, she leaned against the wall next to her friend.

"He said July."

Claire's eyes widened in shock at the revelation, as July could only mean before July 24th or, at least, before the night of July 24th. She knew her brother too well to simply believe he would sit down and rest in a hospital bed if he already knew zombies existed and that their Captain had sold them to Umbrella.

She huffed and licked over her lips before analyzing the situation. "So, he thinks he's still twenty-five, that he still lives in Raccoon City and works as S.T.A.R.S. officer?"

Jill pushed herself away from the wall and walked across the corridor to the row of old plastic chairs that the hospital offered lovelessly to visitors.

"I guess so, yes." A concerned look drove to Claire, who had turned around and was now pressing her back against the wall. "That also means that…"

"That he doesn't know about Umbrella." Claire completed Jill's sentence.

Piers huffed out a laugh and could barely keep himself from kicking the leg of the closest chair. This was simply ridiculous. His Captain had taught him everything he knew about B.O.W.s; how to fight them and how not to go crazy over it; and now he didn't even remember anything about the origins of their main goal. Claire had a similar idea, it seemed.

"This is the first time I actually feel like the older Redfield," she muttered in forced amusement, trying to fathom the new situation.

The door opened again and the two men came out, the doctor still jotting down words onto the papers he had attached to the clipboard.

"Miss _Wetfeeld_," the nurse turned to Claire, who gave him a nod.

"That would be me," she replied with a sad smirk. "How is he?"

The nurse smiled, not excessively concerned about the subject. The doctor began to speak in the slav language and the young man translated.

"_Yur brosser_ is still _confoosed_," he said shrugging and Claire nodded eagerly. Yes, they had already noticed that and neither Jill nor herself had gone to med school.

"He says he believes he's… he doesn't remember the last years of his life," she said in a dark tone. Jill stepped to her side and took her hand in hers; a touch for which Claire was extremely grateful as the ground seemed to move and she was about to collapse.

The nurse translated and the doctor nodded, speaking more Slav nonsense.

"We _wont _to do more tests," the nurse stuttered out his translation and as Claire asked if they could see him again, he said, "yes, but _dis situashon_ is difficult. If he has PTA, he needs you to speak to him. Show him _pickuchurs_. And have _paishans._"

Claire nodded as she slowly assimilated what they were telling her. People with Post-traumatic amnesia often reacted fearfully and overly emotional, it seemed, and they had trouble storing new memories even after waking up. It would get better over time, the nurse said, but it was hard to tell when that would occur, or what he would remember first. They would need to have patience.

"And _fais_," the nurse said, and it took Claire a couple of attempts to understand that he meant _faith_. She laughed in response. She had stopped having faith the day she'd run into her first zombie and she used the words _Oh my God_ too often in a very godless manner.

Once the men had walked away, Jill put a hand onto Claire's shoulder.

"Why don't you go back inside? I'll stay here, maybe it's best if you go alone. He needs you now." She turned to Piers, who looked fragile and afraid. The young soldier seemed a bit out of place now that he was the only one Chris wasn't remembering.

"And you, Piers, you should get some rest," she suggested and the young man sighed regretfully.

"I don't know if I can."

* * *

Claire pushed the door open with care and stepped into the room, immediately bursting into tears as she saw that Chris, the solid and independent man who had always taken care of her, was crying.

"Chris," she whispered as she stepped closer to the bed and took a seat next to it. "Hey. It's me, Claire."

"I know," he replied and nodded as the redhead made an attempt to touch him, asking for permission. They held hands in silence until he seemed to find the words he wanted to say. "I don't usually cry… do I?"

Claire smirked sadly and shook her head.

"I haven't seen you cry in years, but it's okay. This must be hard for you," she assured with a steady expression. "How are you feeling?"

He shrugged.

"I don… I don't..." he stuttered. "I don't know. Sad. Empty."

He forced a warm smile, as if he tried to avoid hurting her. He hadn't looked at her like that in a very long time and Claire couldn't have loved him more for it.

"You will soon remember. Don't worry," she said in a loving voice. "Does your head hurt?"

He narrowed his eyes as if it helped him analyze his pain, and nodded eventually.

"My whole body hurts, to be honest," he admitted and let his eyes fall shut.

Claire watched him, concerned about his estate.

"Why don't you try to sleep a bit?"

The well-meant suggestions just caused her brother to shake his head eagerly, an act that seemed to hurt more than he had expected and he held his head for a while before he opened his eyes again.

"It's okay," the redhead whispered. "Just take it easy. You'll soon be better, I promise!"

Chris took her comforting hand and held it until the pain seemed to desist, and Claire felt tears stinging in her eyes. Her big brother needed her now, and no matter what had been before, she would be there with him until the next time he'd send her away. Forgotten were all the fights they had caused with their family-typical stubbornness. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, examining the round curve of her lips, the deep look in her eyes and those wild, reddish-brown locks that framed her face. Everything was still where he remembered it, but everything was different.

"What a mess, huh? Look at you!" he exclaimed eventually. "You've become a woman and I don't even remember it."

"You'll soon remember. Don't worry." She spoke to him in the most gentle voice she could manage to bring out.

"So, tell me," Chris suddenly said and pointed towards the door. "That man… Is he your boyfriend?"

Claire coughed up the initial shock as her hand searched for support. Who would have expected Chris would be more worried about who his sister was dating than about his own well-being? Once gathered her composure, she laughed a little shyly at her brother.

"Who, Piers? No! No, he's-" she giggled at the confusion. No one in the whole fucking world would ever mistake Piers Nivans for her boyfriend, as there lay more than just a couple of years between them, and not even Chris could believe that she would get herself such a young lover. "He works with you. He was with you when you hit your head and he took you out. I mean, he's a good kid but definitely not my boyfriend."

Chris sighed in relief and gave his sister a sly smirk before he added, "that's good. He's too old for you, young lady."

He pouted a bit and it made Claire laugh like she hadn't laughed in a very long time.

"He's like ten years younger than me," she said and shook her head, shrugging the subject off. "I'm not… I'm focusing on work."

Chris huffed in disappointment as his eyes rolled.

"Do you mean you're not married?" he asked and received a head shake from his sister. "Children?" And another one.

Claire eventually laughed, wishing her brother would drop the eternal, distressing subject.

"I haven't found the right man yet, I guess," she said, shrugging sadly. "No one seems good enough for me, and I blame _you _for my pickiness about guys."

Her brother laughed proudly.

"That's good," he exclaimed. "Although I didn't teach you pickiness, but caution."

Claire smiled warmly as she leaned forward to caress his forearm and Chris' look dropped to his biceps. He hummed interestedly, certainly impressed by what he saw.

"Wow, that's…" He used his left hand to feel the hard muscle underneath the skin and furrowed his brow. "Am I doing roids?"

Claire shrugged a shoulder, the corner of her mouth shifting into a devilish grin.

"Honestly, I believe you do, but you're hiding the evidence very well," she said with a laugh.

* * *

"Yes, besides that, he seems fine," Jill sighed into the phone as she rubbed her temple. "I don't know what happened exactly, but you can expect Lieutenant Nivan's report soon, I assume. Yes. I sent him back to the front, but… Fuck, Barry because he wanted to go!"

She had taken over the contact with home base so Piers could focus on the remains of the battle. The call to Barry Burton wasn't exactly essential, as their old friend only acted as an advisor to the B.S.A.A., but, of course, he requested regular updates about his comrade's state.

"Seriously, how many of them are left? Three? Alpha team is no more, Barry."

Barry's reaction caused her to roll her eyes in exhaustion. "Yes, I know they can be replaced, but you know as well as I do that Chris would kick your ass for speaking like this about his men."

As she turned, Jill caught sight of Claire, who was sneaking out of the room and glancing towards her. With a bright smile dressing her lips, she walked across the corridor and waited for Jill to end the call.

"It's okay Barry, I know you mean well, in your old, retarded way." She giggled, gaining Claire's approval on her word choice in the shape of a satisfied smirk of her lips and a lifted thumb. "Barry, I have to hang up, but I'll keep you updated, okay?"

Once the call was cut and Claire had all of her attention, the redhead began to speak.

"He wants to see you," she explained and fidgeted on her feet. Pulling Jill closer, she lowered her voice. "He's asking a lot of questions; about work, about his personal life, and so on."

Jill nodded, eyes wide open.

"I expected that," she replied with a happy laugh.

It was good to hear that Chris hadn't forgotten his restless spirit that tried to understand his surroundings the best he could, and as the surroundings were currently he himself and his own past and present, questions were a good sign. Amnesic patients often acted out of character,it seemed, but Chris Redfield rarely acted like the average guy anyway.

Claire snickered and coughed up in distress, peeking down the hallway as though she feared to give away too many secrets if she spoke too loudly.

"I couldn't tell him about the B.O.W.s," she muttered, attempting to sound rational. "You know, so it wouldn't be too traumatic."

Jill nodded, pursing her lips in accordance. It was best to introduce him to the thorny subject little by little so as not to cause any harm.

"I told him that-" Claire swallowed. "I told him that you are fighting bioterrorism anyway."

Jill's eyes shot to the redhead, her eyebrows nearly touching her hairline. Claire quickly justified her acts.

"I mean, it's just half of the truth, but if you tell him you just pursue bioweapon dealers instead of actively fighting infected, it's believable, isn't it?"

Claire's expression was so innocent that it nearly made her laugh. So, she was supposed to tell Chris how they brought down terror groups that spread things like Anthrax and smallpox among the world's population. Jill sighed. Anyway, it was still bioterrorism, and they had studied several kinds of more traditional viruses and toxins, too.

"Fine," she mumbled. "What else have you told him?"

"Nothing. I leave the details to you," Claire added with a wink, at which Jill rolled her eyes. Claire smiled warmly.

"He seems quite stable to me," the redhead explained. "I hadn't expected him to be so calm in this situation."

The blonde gave her a silent nod. It was good to know that Chris was in such good shape after his tragic accident. She licked her lips and proceeded to enter the room, carefully pushing the door open in order not to startle her friend. The curtains were half-closed and a gloomy shadow hung in the air, leaving Chris with enough darkness to successfully find some rest. However, his eyes fluttered open quickly as he heard her enter and the smile that surfaced on his lips cradled Jill in relief.

"Hey you," she whispered as she walked towards the bed. "How are you feeling?"

The hint of a nod he drew gave her hope. He patted the side of the mattress to invite her to sit next to him, and Jill obeyed with a smile on her lips.

"This is all surreal," he said and laughed. "I swear, yesterday we were just in S.T.A.R.S. and now… wow!" He smirked proudly. "Counter-bioterrorism? How did we get into that?"

Jill laughed nervously and felt her shoulders twitch into a shrug. How was she going to tell him what had happened without revealing what had happened exactly?

"We had some bad experiences when we were at S.T.A.R.S.," she whispered as she lowered herself onto the mattress next to him. "The terror groups have become bigger and more dangerous over the years and we saw the need to intervene. That's when we created the B.S.A.A."

Chris grimaced as if his head hurt and Jill sucked in a breath.

"I'm sorry," she exhaled. "Maybe that was too much information. You shouldn't think about that now and focus on your recovery."

"Yeah," he said. "Maybe you're right. So, how are the others? How is Barry? And Kenneth? Did he marry that cute girl he was dating? How about Speyer?"

Jill's voice stuck in her throat like an unchewed piece of raw meat. Forest Speyer and Chris had been rivals, if though friends, all through their time in S.T.A.R.S.; they had hung out together many nights after their shift and Speyer had somehow become Chris' best pal right after Barry.

He always said he'd never forget that he'd shot his face when his friend had tried to eat him; and now he had forgotten.

"Barry is fine," she said. At least there was one of the mentioned comrades she could tell good things about. "He lives with Kathy and Polly in Canada. Moira just moved to New York, though. She works with Claire."

"Canada? That's nice," Chris replied with a smile, waiting for her to continue her tale.

Jill shrugged.

"Unfortunately, we lost contact with the others." At Chris' sad expression she decided to explain how their friendship had broken. "You know, Irons' policy got on our nerves and most of us left Raccoon behind."

His eyes widened at the news.

"Really? Wesker too?" he asked. "He seemed okay with Irons as long as he just left him alone doing whatever creepy businesses he was involved in."

Jill had to blink before considering what she was going to respond and a short laugh preceded her reply.

"Wesker… yeah. I heard he moved to a place somewhere warmer... in the South."

Chris laughed along with her and suddenly grabbed her hand.

"I'm glad that you're here, Jill," he whispered and thumbed over the back of her hand as his look dropped to her fingers. "I see I didn't ask you to marry me."

Jill couldn't hold back a loud laugh when he spat out the ridiculous idea. Marry him? They had both dedicated their lives to the fight against bioterrorism. Sure, Chris didn't know how deeply in shit they were usually crawling, but it was still a stupid idea to believe they could have become anything beyond partners. When she caught her breath again, her eyes shot to his face, meeting his behind a haze of confusion.

"Oh, Chris, we…" She shook her head. "We don't have time for that."

A little saddened, he smirked at her as he kept holding her hand in his. He was squeezing her too harshly, obviously unaware of how strong he had grown over time.

"But we tried, didn't we?" A tender expression of purity blossomed on his face and Jill wondered what he meant. With a shrug, she snickered.

"Not that I know."

Now it was Chris' turn to laugh.

"Come on! I was about to ask you out! It was summer festival in Oakville!" The spark of excitement in his eyes was almost magical and Jill recognized indeed the tireless young man she had always admired in her old comrade. "I was going to take you there on Friday! Don't tell me you turned me down!"

The shocking words nearly knocked her off her feet when she assimilated what Friday he was talking about. A rush of blood heated up her cheeks. Chris Redfield would have asked her out hadn't they been called to rescue Bravo team from the Arklay mountains.

"Chris…" Their eyes met in a doubtful glance. "I assume we worked that night. You didn't ask me."

Neither Chris nor Jill said anything else as disappointment made itself visible on their faces and they stared at each other in a consuming silence until Jill believed to hear the ticking of an inexistent clock. With their fingers entwined, the two longtime partners tried to find a way to end this uncomfortable conversation about the possibility of becoming more than just that.

"I see."

* * *

The damn lighter was as dirty and old as the gas station where she'd bought it and even after twenty attempts Claire hadn't yet gotten to light the fucking cigarette. The shitty, windy weather of the Edonian mountainside wasn't making it any easier either, and so, she stood in front of that decayed grey hospital in the very centre of the country, fighting with her own addiction.

"This is the universe telling you to quit!" She hissed, about to throw the smoke away in defeat. She reconsidered it, though, and tried it one more time.

"Here," a familiar voice said as quite a decent flame lit up next to her face.

Claire turned her head a little and found the male nurse from before standing next to her in the cold. He wore a thick, knee-long grey leather coat with a furry hood and was carrying a cup of coffee in one hand, the lighter and a cigarette in the other one.

"Thanks," Claire mouthed as she took a long drag to light her smoke.

"You're welcome" he said and was rewarded with a tired smirk. "Your _brossa _will be _alwight_."

It was heartwarming to see how a complete stranger was trying to make her feel confident about the situation and Claire allowed herself to smile gratefully. When her head turned to the horizon, though, all the positivism faded away, just like the colors of the afternoon sky graded into the orange fire of the nearby battlefront. The loud rumble of bombs and gunshots reached them and Claire felt a more intense hint of cold run down her back. The nurse next to her wasn't as surprised as her by the sudden bomb fall, she realized, as the young man remained almost apathetic in the halo of destruction.

"The bombs again. It's _de _same _stowy _every night_._" He took one last drag before tossing the remaining cigarette onto the humid soil. "_Sings_ _aw _getting _uckly _Miss _Wetfeeld_. We can't take care of your _brossa _here," he said as he turned back to the door. "My _suppavisor _will kill me if he hears me, but, if you want my _attvice_, leave the _countwy_ as soon as you can."

Claire stared speechlessly at the burning aureola over the few remaining buildings of the Edonian skyline. The Civil War in the tiny country had been keeping all of the counter-bioterror organizations on alert in the previous weeks, and as soon as the European branch of the B.S.A.A. had found B.O.W.s in the zone, all of them had been flown in—Terra Save, too. Claire herself was part of another operation and had been working on different projects, but now that she was there, she couldn't just leave, could she?

Throwing away the cigarette stub, she launched forward through the main gate of the hospital yard, willing to get to the battlefront and see where she could help. Dashing aimlessly towards the fire, she didn't see the man in uniform coming and bounced brutally against his chest.

"Oh, fuck!"

"Claire!" When her eyes shot up, she found the face of Piers Nivans staring down at her. "Where are you going?"

A little shocked, she took a deep breath.

"I thought… I could help there…" she mouthed, trying to pull her arm free of the soldier's sudden grip on hers.

"Claire, don't!" he pleaded, forcing her to look at him. "The B.O.W.s have been eliminated. Alpha to Charlie teams are retreating and only Delta teams stay."

She shook her head in disbelief. "What?"

"Yes," he said, still baffled by the news he himself was bringing. "The rebels must have run out of the virus. Intelligence is investigating what could have happened and who their supplier was."

Claire blinked at him before her view drifted back to the burning horizon.

"And the bombs?" The veil of concern hung heavily in her voice. "Are you telling me that…?"

"The ones left are the rebel groups and the troops sent by the monarch," he said, squeezing her arm a little harder when he realized she wasn't yet willing to give up. "The B.S.A.A. and Terra Save are combatting bioterrorism, Claire. This not not our fight anymore."

She knew he was right—she really knew—but the fact that there were people dying and that they might be missing _her _two hands to save another life was upsetting her. Piers was obviously aware of her unease.

"Claire," he whispered. "Chris needs you now."

The inferno down in the city could not compare to the fire in the redhead's eyes, and Piers had to admit that he admired her for her inexhaustible will to help. He also prayed that she would finally listen and stay with him.

"The Captain will kill me if I let you go back there and anything happens to you, you know?" That statement caused her eyebrow to jump up into a sarcastic expression.

"You kidding me?" she asked. "I have been killing B.O.W.s when you were still sucking your thumb."

Laughing off the annoyment, she eventually ripped her arm free and began to dig in her handbag for the phone. The nurse wouldn't have warned her if there was no real reason to be afraid, and she couldn't risk leaving Chris so close to the war zone much longer.

"Barry? It's me, Claire."

* * *

They hadn't spoken a word since the bombs had begun to fall, both busy with their own private thoughts. Chris seemed shocked; Jill, fearful. Was it a good idea to tell him that they had been present in the Edonian Civil War?

"Where are we?" Chris asked quietly and Jill sighed in response.

"In Edonia." As Chris didn't respond immediately, she remembered that her partner hadn't actually started caring about geography until he'd been told that Umbrella had their headquarters in France. "Eastern-Europe."

He nodded shortly and smirked.

"Thanks."

Luckily, before he could ask more questions, the door was pushed open and Claire came back in, closely followed by Nivans.

"Grab everything important. Chris? Jill? We're leaving."


	3. Chapter 3

They were lucky he had casually remembered bringing some of his Captain's clothes to the hospital, as smuggling Chris out of there would have been more uncomfortable if not more _dangerous _in that nasty paper napkin they called a robe—or however they actually called it. Piers turned around a little irritatedly as Chris asked him to leave him some privacy to change while the two women got to stare at his naked butt. Not that there was anything special in seeing his Captain undress, but being discarded as unworthy of the sight after having shared the same locker room with him for nearly three years felt weird.

Tearing the used robe into pieces and improvising a gauze, Claire removed the IV cannula with certain elegance and left them all truly impressed. Her response to Chris' question if she was a nurse was a mere _I've seen it often enough to know how it's done_, but the sly look she gave Valentine afterwards indicated that she'd probably seen it more often in movies than in the tents of Terra Save's survivor camps.

Once Chris was ready, Piers and Jill led—rather carried—him out of the hospital, each of them hefting one of his arms over their shoulders, while Claire guided them towards the exit through the least obstructed corridors. Piers wondered if she did it to avoid being spotted on their way out or to keep herself from having to face the consequences of Edonia's battlefield, as she seemed to turn pale every time they came across a victim. When they found a couple of civilians with their crying child, all covered in dust and dry blood, Piers saw how the feeling of helplessness spread across Claire's beautiful features and his free hand reached for her elbow to remind her that there were other things that needed her attention now.

"Thanks," she muttered as they walked across the helipad towards the chopper Barry had sent them. "For everything."

Piers' look softened at the unexpected token of her gratitude and he nodded in reply before she lifted her had to shield her face from the hair the rotor blades blew around wildly. Jill was the first one to climb into the cabin, helping Chris get in after her. The patient looked around with his eyes wide open as he inspected the inside of the chopper.

"Wow!" he exclaimed as his view drifted to the cockpit, from where a bearded guy who had introduced himself as Carl Rio was staring at the boarding passengers. "That looks nice! Can _I _fly this?"

Carl's neck nearly squeaked from how fast his face snapped to Chris.

"Sir, we have no time to waste, _sir_."

It was hard to tell if Chris' speechlessness came from the sudden sir he'd been called or from the tone Carl had chosen to reject his humble wish. Claire pushed her brother into the seat and turned to the pilot.

"He's an ex-Air Force pilot," she excused and shrugged a shoulder before turning back to her brother.

"It's okay, Chris, look, you'll soon gonna pilot jets and things again, but you're still recovering from your head injury." Her voice was soft as she explained the situation, hoping he wouldn't feel hurt. "We're bringing you home, so they can treat you there."

Although pouting, and surely wondering what was happening to him that he needed to be treated back home, Chris stopped complaining and agreed to sit down quietly next to Jill. The blonde was giving him one of those eagerly encouraging glances she had rewarded Piers with earlier that day as her hand found Chris'. The rumbling of the bombs in the distance seemed to put him at unease.

"I owe you an apology, Claire," she mouthed as she saw Chris' glance jump to the horizon every now and then. "I was thinking you were overreacting, but it's best to keep him away from all this."

Especially now that the BSAA's job in this country was done, she thought to herself as she smiled at her old partner, who kept inspecting the inside of the chopper, visibly wowed by the sudden evolution of technology and design of the aircraft.

"Impressed?" She asked amusedly, at what Chris just shrugged.

"I mean, it's basically the same thing, right? It just looks better."

Claire overheard his comment and laughed amusedly, as the face her brother was making reminded her immensely of the past and of some of the arguments they had shared when they'd been younger, and she saw a spirit she had already forgotten. The fiery character was a trait the Redfields had printed into their DNA, deep and persistent, but over the years that character had turned from friendly positive to nearly destructive and their relationship wasn't the only thing that had suffered from Chris' constant bad humor. Claire sat in front of Jill, as Piers took a seat next to her and faced his Captain with an expression of relief and awkwardly uncomfortable happiness. Chris was still a little overwhelmed to see the young man's reaction to him, but as Jill and Claire didn't seem to find it surprising, he just accepted things as they were.

"What are we gonna do now?" Jill asked in concern as her look waved to the redhead in front of her. "The chopper is one thing, but I'm not sure if he's ready for a Transatlantic flight."

Claire shook her head.

"I would like to take him to a hospital outside of this area before flying back home," she said. "Terra Save has secured facilities not far from here and-" she paused and leaned forward, propping her chin up on her hand. "Guess who's currently there."

Jill blinked at her with the curiosity of a child.

"Who?"

* * *

"You're lucky I am in Edonia!" Rebecca yelped as she saw Jill step down the hallway of the lab. She was in a white lab coat, skin held in an unhealthy paleness that indicated that she hadn't seen the sun in days—maybe even weeks. The mark of the eyepiece of her microscope was still printed around her eye and Jill wondered for how long the young woman had really been working before they had interrupted her. "Claire said it was urgent."

The blonde nodded after hugging her old friend. Through Barry, Claire had known that Rebecca was in town and after one phone call, she had also figured out that it was her own organization which was currently sheltering her team of researchers and offering their facilities as a lab to investigate the new virus strain they had encountered in Edonia.

"Yes, look," Jill said. "I know you have a lot of work to do with the new virus, but Chris has had an accident."

Rebecca's initial irritation was blown off her face instantly and, face turned into a grimace of concern, she replied, "What? What happened?"

The blonde quickly smiled so Rebecca wouldn't believe their common friend's life was in danger, but her facial expression told enough to let the young scientist know that it was serious anyway.

"He's amnesic," she said straightforwardly. "He believes it's 1998. He doesn't remember anything from that moment on. So, no Umbrella, no BOWs, no Raccoon City destruction." She sighed, shrugging a sad shoulder. "He asked me about Kenneth and Forest."

Rebecca listened, as baffled by the information as they all had been when they'd found out that the brave BSAA Captain Chris Redfield didn't know how brave he had really been anymore, left in the belief that he was a police officer—an elite cop, but still a cop.

"Oh my god," was all the ex STARS medic could reply. She gave Jill a nod and they walked towards the waiting area where Piers and Claire were waiting with Chris.

* * *

The redhead was engaged in a conversation with some of her colleagues from the European camps and it was the first time Chris was alone with Piers, who was guarding his Captain as though he was a fortress to defend from outside attackers. It had been a weird couple of days, the young soldier thought as he recalled every moment. The awful screams of Ben, Andy, Carl and Finn as the cocoon had begun to grow around their bodies; how quickly the gates had opened again, leaving him and Chris to the mercy of the creatures that had once been their teammates; the cracking sound Chris' head had made when he'd hit the stone floor, making him believe that he himself would be the only one who would make it out of the City Hall alive; how he had used up all the bullets in his own and Chris' machine gun before the last of the BOWs was taken down and how he'd had to punch its face to assure they even had a chance to survive.

And Chris didn't even remember it.

Piers sighed. It wasn't like he needed any approval or reward for doing his job, as his devotion for it came from elsewhere, but he had done so extremely well that it was simply a pity that the only one who had lived to see it couldn't remember anything. When he bent forward to rest his elbows on his knees, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.

"So, uhm," Chris was giving him a weird smile as he patted his back. "Claire said you kinda saved my life."

Piers turned to his Captain, wondering if he had, somehow, read his mind. He nodded.

"Yes, Captain, it's my duty to help all my teammates if possible."

Chris laughed loudly, soon holding his head when the pain the noise and movement caused started to sting. After another second of silence, he smirked at Piers.

"I know I must be some higher rank, but, please, don't call me _Captain_. I'm not used to such formal treatments towards myself. Just say Chris."

Piers smiled faintly. It was actually something Chris had insisted on before, as he didn't like to be treated any other way than his team. So, off the field, he had often demanded to be addressed by his first name instead of his rank, and Piers found it amusing that he kept doing so even though he didn't remember anything of his recent past.

"So, what I wanted to say is _Thank you_." His smile turned warm and fatherly, just as it had been the rare times he had smiled at his men. "I owe you my life, Piers, and I would really like to hear someday what happened exactly. I mean, when we are ready for it."

The young soldier looked at him, taken by surprise by how open their conversation had turned suddenly.

"You're welcome," he replied with a grin. "Chris."

Claire came back to join them as soon as she spotted Jill and Rebecca returning to the reception, putting a calming hand onto Chris' shoulder as he tried to get up.

"It's okay, you have to rest," she said and received a somewhat chiding glance from her overconfident big brother. She should have known that it would be useless. When he caught sight of Rebecca, the surprise to see her pushed him automatically onto his feet.

"Rebecca!" He yelped as he took a step forward.

The young scientist smiled.

"Hey Chris," she said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

Chris shrugged, astonishedly staring at Rebecca.

"Weird."

The scientist smiled at him before she slung her slender arms around him and sighed against his chest.

"I'm glad that you're alive, at least." Once she'd let go of him, she winked at him and pointed at a room nearby. "Jill said she wants to take you to the States, which might probably be the best place for you to be treated, but we need to make sure that flying is safe for you. I would like to run some tests and have some of my colleagues check on you. They're very good physicians in their field and they can surely tell you more." She gave him a sign. "Come with me."

As Rebecca walked away, Chris kept standing in the corridor, as if time had stopped running for him. He didn't react before Claire didn't elbow him softly in the side.

"You okay?" She asked, a little concerned, at what Chris nodded.

"Have you seen her?" He yelled, laughing. "She hasn't changed at all. She still looks like she's eighteen. It's amazing."

Claire couldn't help but feel offended by the comment, as his reaction to _her_ first sight hadn't been that _positively_ surprised. She huffed out a laugh.

"Sure, everybody but me still young," she said, jokingly, but with a hint of disappointment in her voice. Chris, however, put his arm around her and smirked.

"No Claire, you don't look like you're nineteen anymore," he said warmly as they began to walk through the corridor. "You look better now."

At Claire's confused grimace, he added, "Don't get me wrong. You were always a beautiful girl, but when I see you now," he blew out a breath. "I see so much more than just a pretty face. You're beautiful through and through. Your spirit comes to show and you fill the entire room with your presence and, what I see makes me nothing but proud."

Claire gasped as she heard his words.

"Oh, Chris."

He laughed.

"And it's a shame you don't have children, because those precious genes of yours should really live on," he exclaimed before he let go of her to follow Rebecca.

Piers, who had overheard the intimate conversation not entirely by accident, agreed completely with his Captain about the beauty of his sister, but he probably wouldn't let her know.

* * *

"This is the weirdest case of amnesia I have ever gotten to see," Dr. Zink, the bearded psychologist in a white coat pushed the glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. "That a man forgets such a long period of his life, the happenings and the people in it; but remembers everything before that date so clearly, is certainly not very common."

Dr. Harrison, the neurologist next to him, nodded.

"And you say he forgot everything related to BOWs and Umbrella?" He asked, rubbing his meaty chin.

Jill nodded.

"Everything," she said. "When he woke up, he actually believed he was in 1998."

The way Dr. Harrison pressed his lips together nearly caused his mouth to disappear in the voluminous cushion of his cheeks.

"I would love to keep your friend here to study him," he said as his head turned to his colleague, who affirmed his equal interest with a nod.

Claire, who had been sitting quietly in the room, still baffled by the nice words Chris had given her earlier, suddenly jumped to her feet.

"Studying him?" She shouted. "I can assure you that nobody here is going to turn my brother into a lab rat." Her finger waved through the round as she yelled out her complaint, and received Piers' agreeing nod. "We just brought him here to know if he can fly and that's what I want you to tell me."

Dr. Harrison stared at her seriously through tiny eyes as he smacked boredly. Propped against the wall, he turned slightly and grabbed the file containing Chris' latest analysis they had taken from the hospital.

"When did you say he got hit?"

Claire relaxed a bit, exhaling some of her gathered anger along with a breath. Her face turned to Piers, silently asking for help as she herself couldn't even remember what day it was. She was no better than Chris.

"On Monday," he said, hoping Claire wasn't expecting him to lie, which could have been dangerous to his Captain. "But he's fine so far."

The doctor lifted his eyebrows in a bored manner, taking a deep breath that turned into a sigh on its way back out.

"Impossible, he can't fly yet. We should wait at least ten days to discard any further bleeding or injuries." He handed the scans to his colleague. "It doesn't look bad, I admit, but given the circumstances and the symptoms, I can't let your brother fly yet. And he should really stay here so we can _watch_ him, if you don't like the word _studying_, Miss Redfield."

Claire grunted as her hands balled into fists at the side of her hips. That guy might have been a doctor, but that was no reason to talk to her like that. She began to hiss under her breath, seeing the two doctors walk away. She relaxed when she felt Piers' hand on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…"

"No," she whispered as she turned to him. "It was the right thing to do."

Rebecca sighed in the corner where she had been standing all the time, excusing herself with a soft shrug and hanging shoulders as she walked into the middle of the room.

"I'm very sorry, guys," she said, her head low. "They work in a lab, isolated from civilization and they don't know how to treat people correctly, but they are kind people on the inside, and they will do anything to help you, Chris."

Jill had been standing some feet away, watching the scene with hundreds of questions running through her mind—all of them regarding the wellbeing of one man who had been the main subject of the argument and who was taking it all with such unconcerned amusement that it nearly made her laugh when he turned to her.

"So, we're spending New Year's Eve with Rebecca? That's great."

* * *

Spending the rest of the holidays with Rebecca, her team and several TerraSave people was indeed not as sad as the Edonian hospital would have been. They even had a real New Year's dinner and drinks, which Chris, unfortunately, was not allowed to taste. The tests they ran were simple, and the doctors respected Claire's wish not to introduce her brother to the delicate subject of bioterrorism—also because they believed themselves that it would be harmful to confront him with such awkward things like zombies. By the end of the weekend Harrison had given them the green light to bring Chris back home by plane and Claire was so happy about it that she immediately offered the man her apologies for having called him a _fucking dickhead _in the face, not though for all the other names she had given him behind his back.

They all avoided speaking about BOWs. When Chris asked Rebecca if she kept in touch with someone from BRAVO team, the young woman nearly burst into tears. Trying to keep the conversation strictly to private subjects was extremely hard, as nobody really knew what Chris usually did in his free time anymore—except for working out in the gym, of course—and so they spoke mostly about themselves. It was what interested Chris the most anyway.

"And you live in New York City?"

"Yes, and so do you," Jill replied as they packed Chris' bag together. "We work there, you know?"

Her partner handed her his shirts after inspecting each of them closely. Even after a week, he hadn't gotten used to the fact that his upper body was now somehow twice its original size.

"Do we live together?"

Jill clicked her tongue as she folded the wrinkled shirt back into a state worthy of a well-packed suitcase.

"No, we don't. You have a nice apartment of your own."

Chris sat on the bed and leaned against the wall as he stared at her. Jill's moves had always been elegantly sexy—what Speyer had called _in need for dick_—but she had evolved into something so royal and beautiful that it was hard not to stare at her.

"I can't believe I never asked you out."

Chris' words took her by surprise. She had known, of course, that he found her attractive, as he never failed to remind her of it, and she had suspected him to try to kiss her spontaneously to welcome the year 2013, which had been reason enough for her to stand as far as possible away from him.

She didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Before she could come up with another cocky reply of hers, the door was opened and Claire stepped in.

"Jill, the doctors want to see us," she explained as something in her voice trembled.

Dr Harrison and Dr Zink had elaborated fifty pages of report that concluded in an extremely weird diagnosis. They agreed that Chris suffered from Dissociative amnesia; where a person forgets part of their past, often to help deal with stress situations, making the individuals forget something very traumatic. In Chris' case, it was unclear if the cause was the loss of his team mates, which, according to Piers' testimony, could have been the trigger, or if it was indeed the brain injury.

"As far as I know, this would make your brother the only case in the history of written medical articles," Dr Zink explained. "I think he might have used the head trauma as an excuse to develop a dissociative amnesia and deny his past in bioterrorism to cope with the pain it caused him."

"That explains why we didn't find anything unusual in his CT," Dr Harrison added.

Claire closed her eyes and shook her head, the agitation visible on her face.

"So, are you saying that his problem is not physical, but mental?"

Jill held her breath until the doctor would give them a clear answer. Was it really a mental disorder Chris was suffering from?

"Yes, I fear so," Dr Zink replied. "This has both advantages and disadvantages. As the physical damage is low, he will recover from the pain pretty soon. That's the reason why Dr Harrison allows him to fly."

The psychologist cleared his throat before he kept speaking.

"But the treatment for this kind of amnesia is more complicated and longer. We shall start therapy, maybe he needs medication," he explained. "I would appreciate having him here with us and see his evolution, but it would be best if you took him home, to his familiar surroundings, and slowly confront him with his past to see how he reacts."

Jill was certainly relieved that Chris was able to come back with them to the US. Everything else would be a slow process, but they could surely handle it. Claire, however didn't seem that happy about the news, Jill noticed as she turned to face the redhead.

"So," she said when the doctors had walked away. "Now we can get him home."

The smile Claire forced came out a little too dark, and she shrugged sadly.

"Chris must have suffered a lot all this time." She leaned against the nearest wall, letting her head drop back. "He was always so dedicated to the job and I had no idea he was… feeling so bad about it."

Yes, it was true. All of them had been carrying their little emotional baggage throughout the years, more than once close to giving up, but that this complete erasure of their past had been a product of the mind of Chris Redfield was hard to believe. Chris had always encouraged them to go on, to keep fighting until the last of bioterrorists had been taken down. It had been an impossible dream, though, as there would always be someone ready to substitute any Wesker or Spencer that came to fall, lining up for becoming the next concern of the counterterror organizations. One thing was clear; they couldn't win for good, and it made it easy to fathom all reached their physical and mental limits. Was Chris' current condition a result of the lack of victory over bioterrorism?

Claire sighed.

"I can't really blame him, though," she muttered lowly. "If I had the chance to decide whether to remember or forget all this-"

"You would choose to remember!" Jill stepped towards her decidedly and grabbed her shoulders, slightly shaking the redhead. "You would want to fight and help, and that's what Chris wants, too. He's had an accident. Those guys have been sitting in their lab for too long and they don't know how to do their job anymore. I mean, we're in the middle of nowhere, Claire. There's not even the right equipment here."

Claire's eyes opened to meet Jill's, finding a new source of peace and confidence in the bright greyish-blue of her irises. After another shallow breath, the redhead licked her lips and smiled.

"He said I'm beautiful. He hugs me and he laughs and he talks to me." A short laugh made its way out as her eyes watered. "I don't even remember the last time we talked like this before this _accident_."

As the words popped out, Claire realized just how much she had missed the relationship with her older brother, all the trust they'd used to have in each other and the concern their sibling's well-being used to cause them. And it hurt.

"If Umbrella made him that way, I don't think I want him to remember."

Her friend's bold confession made the blonde shudder, as there was certainly some truth in Claire's words. Chris had turned cheerful and carefree, he joked and laughed a lot, just like he had been in STARS when they had met, and Jill had to admit that she, too, missed that side of her partner.

"I know," she said before she could stop the words from coming out. "I don't want it either."

Someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a response. Both women turned towards Chris, who was sticking his smiling face into the room.

"Hey," he asked. "You ready? Piers says we can leave in an hour."

Jill nodded. Giving Claire's shoulder another soft squeeze, she walked towards the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a lot for reading, guys. I'm sorry for all possible mistakes and I still hope you enjoy it, despite all the advice I ignored for the sake of the story hahaha


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! My life has turned a little chaotic lately, and before Christmas I got busy with a Cleon short story. I promise I will keep writing my WIP, including Family Portrait :D
> 
> Thank you all for being here. I hope you enjoy this little chapter and that nobody finds the airport scene offensive.
> 
> Happy New Year!

The dome that embraced the entry hall of the West-Edonian airport terminal seemed to concentrate the sound in one centric spot in the in front of the security scanners and the access to the gates. It was hard to truly understand a word in the turmoil the passengers, airline personnel and the PA system caused.

"Are you kidding me? What's so dangerous about shampoo?"

However, the ambient sound drowned easily in the loud, beary voice of an astonished Chris Redfield who had just seen the ridiculously small shampoo bottle his sister was placing into the plastic bag the airport security required for keeping liquids and gels within the carry-on luggage.

"It's for security reasons, Chris." Claire snickered and zipped the bag. "They want to make sure people don't take explosives on board."

After hefting his sister's excessively heavy cabin case onto the plastic tray and pushing it towards the scanner, Chris blinked at her, completing his statement of disapproval with a click of his tongue.

"And that's why I can't bring my Pepsi?"

The redhead shrugged with an irritated roll of her eyes.

"I'll buy you a new one once we're on the other side," she said with a wink right before Chris was called to pass the scanner.

"So," the older Redfield said when they had all gone through the security checkpoint. "When did they become so meticulous with their safety? I remember carrying a box cutter on the flight to start my job in Raccoon City."

Jill shoved her passport into her back pocket and threw on her coat, tugging out the blond ponytail from the blue collar. She gave Claire a serious look before telling Chris the truth.

"Everything started after 9/11," she said, her face marred with a hint of embarrassment and regret. "In 2001 terrorists attacked the World Trade Center towers and the Pentagon."

Claire's bag met the ground with a loud clunk as the older Redfield dropped it, paralyzed by the sudden revelation of one of the most shocking events he had _missed_. The attention of all the people around was drawn to him immediately.

"What did you just say?"

Claire sighed and collected her bag from the ground, removing the dust from the bottom side before throwing it over her shoulder.

"Yeah, it was awful. They hijacked four airliners and crashed them into the buildings." She looked at her brother and shrugged. "Nothing was the same after those attacks."

Chris shook his head in disbelief.

"Wow, that's…" he blew out a breath and pressed his fist into the other palm. "Had I been on that plane…"

"What would you have done, huh?" Claire shouted annoyedly as she grabbed her brother's earlobe, pulling on it in a chiding way until Chris yelped in pain. "Do you think you're a superhuman? Everything would have happened exactly the same way, but you would have died, too. There would have been attacks, they would have crashed the planes, and on top of that _I_ would have lost my brother."

Jill watched the scene in awe. The siblings had started fighting like two teenagers over the fact that Chris had _not _saved the world that one tragic Tuesday in 2001. The blonde's eyes shot to Piers, who had been following them in silence the whole time, listening to their conversation with surprised interest, mind blown away by the youthful presence his Captain had adopted since he believed he was twenty-five.

"And now I can't even take a knife with me," Chris shouted. "What if someone hijacks _our_ plane? How am I gonna defend you all without a proper weapon?"

Piers cleared his throat behind the siblings. With his bag thrown carelessly over his shoulder, he turned to Chris.

"Don't worry, Captain. If you don't feel safe, I can show you how to build a weapon from stuff you can buy at the duty free shop."

The cocky smile on his face looked good on him, Claire thought when she had forced her mouth back closed. Piers had effortlessly put an end to their argument and left her wishing he would abandon his freezing attitude more often—for his own sake, of course. Chris was, in the meantime, chuckling amusedly. It seemed he had found an ally in his second-in-command.

With the good mood restored, the four of them walked towards their gate.

* * *

She wasn't sure if it was the noise of the engines, the altitude or the warmth of the sunlight that flooded unfiltered through the windows, but there was something about travelling in big aircrafts that always made Jill sleepy. Adding the fact that the flight back home usually took place the moment the farthest away from their next mission, it was no surprise that she had the best of slumbers on planes. Unbothered by any possible jetlag, she barely cared what time it was anywhere on the planet. When her eyes were shut, it was night.

"Jill!"

That was, until someone woke her up.

"Jill, are you awake?"

Claire, on the other hand, was wide awake whenever she as much as spotted an aircraft. Surviving victim of a plane crash in 1998, the redhead claimed she couldn't find rest in a place where there was no escape and where they didn't let her carry her motherfucking guns to defend herself in case a Tyrant showed up.

Jill smacked softly in response as she began to rub the sleepiness off her eyes.

"I am," she grunted and looked at Claire through one open eye. "I am."

Claire seemed worried, turning her head as if she feared someone could hear her.

"He can't hear us," she whispered as she looked over to Chris, who sat a row in front of them, wide-eyedly watching one of the Harry Potter movies the airline had among their on-board entertainment package and completely isolated from the world around him thanks to the headphones. "Nivans has gone to the toilet."

Jill yawned.

"What's wrong, Claire?" She asked as she tried to stretch in her seat and nearly hit the young man next to her in the face. When all possible funds were used for the fight against bioterrorism, there was nothing left for tickets beyond the economy class.

Without losing sight of the corridor, Claire cleared her throat.

"Listen. I've been thinking a lot since we left Edonia, and I know we agreed to show Chris stuff from home to see if we can make him remember," she said. "But what if we don't?"

Jill expected her to say something else, but when Claire remained silent, she understood that it hadn't been just a rhetorical question and that she wanted to start a logical discussion over a delicate issue. It seemed that the redhead was having one of those bright moments that pushed her to do things like flying to France or infiltrating an Umbrella facility without backup, and it was Jill's job to dissuade her before someone got hurt.

"Well," the blonde said in a calm tone, hoping she could choke the spark of lunacy before it would ignite a fire that couldn't be extinguished. "Given the type of amnesia he suffers, it seems that his memories can be banned forever if there's no proper trigger to make him remember." Jill smiled softly, lifting an eyebrow. "But how are you going to keep the truth about bioterror from him when there's a major outbreak taking place every six months?"

Claire pouted, surely aware of the good sense in Jill's words, but overwhelmed with some kind of hope her stubbornness didn't let her give up on.

"Well, there are people who live kinda isolated from reality…"

"Claire, stop! We talked about this," Jill hissed and woke the man to her right up for good. "What will he do when all of us are sent away and he has to stay behind? Trust me, he's gonna find out sooner or later, and he'll be mad as hell." She sighed at Claire's look lowered. "Not to mention that the B.S.A.A. will demand explanations for the absence of one of their founding members."

Claire swung her ponytail around as her look jumped from the opening door of the lavatory back to Jill.

"That's exactly what I mean!" she hissed angrily. "It's always what the B.S.A.A. wants. He hasn't had any vacation in the past ten years, he's always abroad, risking his life. Don't you think he deserves better?"

The cabin crew was currently serving meals and Piers was forced to take the other corridor to get back to his seat, which gave Claire and Jill more time to argue.

"Claire Redfield," Jill said, shaking her head in denial. "I don't recognize you! You should know better than anyone why we are fighting and why we can't just take some time off whenever we want. You have seen the effects of bioterrorism; you have been infected yourself. What's making you so irresponsible now?"

Grunting, Claire frowned in displeasure.

"I know, Jill," she replied, grabbing her friend's hand as she looked at her brother, who was laughing loudly at the screen.

Of course she _knew_, but was knowing better than feeling? Her intuition had led her to one shithole after the other, yes, but was that reason enough to give up and trust her head more than her heart?

"I know, but he's so carefree, so unbothered and so… happy."

When Jill sighed after a short while, Claire turned back to face her and saw the hesitation in her friend's eyes.

"I know that we can't keep him away from the truth forever, but do we have to introduce him to bioterrorism right away? I mean, nobody can guarantee that he will remember his past anyway."

Jill bit her lower lip. It was true that Chris' character had changed now that he wasn't carrying the weight of bioterrorism on his tired shoulders, but that wasn't reason enough to doom the world, was it? She frowned at her own thought.

Was the world really _doomed_ with Chris Redfield gone?

Before Piers could get into their reach, Jill replied quietly, "Fine. What do you suggest?"

Claire couldn't hold back the victorious smile of hope as she spoke.

"Let's wait and give him some time off. Maybe he starts remembering things even if we don't intervene, but we can't just throw him into a world that has changed completely. He's a stranger here. Let's make this as comfortable as possible for him and…" she looked to Chris again. "Let him be happy for a while. A couple of months; maybe three."

Jill sighed, remaining silent as she considered what consequences Claire's idea could have.

"You know that I agree with you, Claire. Chris really deserves some time off," she said eventually. "But I also know that we need any help in this battle and Chris, even without his memory of bioterror, will be of great value to the B.S.A.A. Also, what am I going to tell everybody? How am I going to justify his absence?"

The redhead next to her cocked her head playfully as her lip twitched.

"For now, he will have to recover from his head injury."

Jill clenched her teeth visibly at Claire's audacity, also because of how much it reminded her of Chris. So different in many ways, when it came to the most annoying character traits, the two Redfield siblings were disturbingly alike. When Jill's response didn't show immediately, Claire began to grimace in pity, making use of those puppy eyes of hers and the way they watered when she held her breath for too long.

"Jill, _please_."

Another sigh announced the fall of Jill Valentine's determination, because Claire was painfully _right _when she said that Chris deserved to be happy, at least for a while. All of them had lost almost everything because of people like Spencer and Wesker, who were taking their will to play God too far. Jill swallowed. Was it fair of her to deny Chris a moment of freedom and carefreeness, a pause from all the headaches bioterrorism brought along? Her eyes jumped to the corridor. Piers was threateningly close to reach their row again, but before he arrived at his seat, a little girl with blonde curls dropped her teddy bear and he knelt down to give it back to her. Jill lifted a finger.

"One month," she said and made Claire smile shyly. "And a half, maybe. If he hasn't made any progress by himself by the end of February, we will tell him everything."

Claire blew out a breath of restrained happiness as her lips widened into a relieved smile. She squeezed Jill's hand in gratitude and mouthed a quiet _Thank you_, before the blonde shrugged a shoulder.

"I want him to be happy, too," she said and gestured to the young soldier that had finally reached his row and dropped into the seat. "I just see one tiny problem here."

Claire's look drove to Piers, whose attempt to climb over his Captain's legs had caused the older man to pause the movie and remove his headphones.

"I'm so happy you're fine, Captain."

* * *

Piers had gotten off the plane whistling a cheerful melody and, after carrying their bags to his sports car, he'd played Tetris with them until they were all stored in the tiny trunk. The three other people were baffled by his skills.

Jill was the only one who could stay awake once the engine roared, as she'd had her nap on the plane already.

"So," Piers mumbled as his look drifted to the rearview mirror and got stuck on the image of Claire, whose head had already dropped to the shoulder of her brother. "Shall I take you all to HQ?"

Jill made a sound of surprise when the young man shifted gears and accelerated, guiding the vehicle smoothly through the rush hour traffic and pushing her into the seat she was occupying next to him.

"Well," she said as she turned her head to the people in the backseat. Both Chris and Claire were sound asleep. "Honestly, I think we all need a rest before we start working again, you know? Chris has gone through a lot these past weeks and I want him to be…" she considered what words she should use. "In good shape when he gets back."

It was a pity Claire had dozed off so quickly. The redhead could have come up with much more convincing words to get Piers to drop them somewhere else.

"Also, remember that people over thirty don't have that much energy anymore," she laughed. "We need less sleep, but things are going more slowly."

Her own lazy attempt, though, seemed to have been successful enough, and Piers nodded, laughing, though with a hint of embarrassment on his face.

"Oh, right, sorry," he excused himself and snickered shyly. "I got carried away. Naturally, the Captain can take his time. I guess there's a lot of… personal things he has to learn about, too."

Something in his voice made Jill believe that he was speaking about her, and it bothered her to the core. The rumors about Chris and herself had spread further than she had expected, becoming one of the favorite subjects among the newest B.S.A.A. members. Nothing but rumors, of course, but still a very unpleasant subject when you hoped to be respected by the employees.

"So, I'll take him home. Where shall I drop _you_?"

No, maybe he hadn't been speaking of her, Jill noted when she turned to the young man to check his expression, which remained relaxed and friendly instead of mischievously sheepish. He was innocently asking for orders to follow, like the good lap dog he had always been to Chris. Jill had to bite her tongue when she caught herself with such mean thoughts on her mind, and she focused on giving him a proper answer.

"I think you can take us all to my place, if you want to head home… or to HQ," she offered in a sympathetically mocking manner as she pointed to the backseat. "I will take care of those two."

Her place was a good option. It was neutral ground, as she had always made sure not to bring any work home, and Chris hadn't visited her in such a long time that even his unharmed memory would be safe from painful revelations. Piers surely _felt_ that he was warded off by the blonde, but, just as Jill had expected, he didn't complain. Following her indications, he drove Chris and the two women to her apartment block and even carried their luggage to the elevator.

"He's a good kid," Claire whispered to Jill as they watched the two men say goodbye.

"I just hope he won't make any trouble. He wanted to take your brother to headquarters today," the blonde replied and Claire shoved her sunglasses a little down her nose, showing Jill her enormously swollen eyes.

"I see." She took a deep breath. "We'll have to be careful."

* * *

Chris had barely said a word since they'd opened the door to Jill's apartment. While Claire and the blonde were making coffee in the kitchen, he was busy having a closer look at the pictures on her shelves and enjoying the view of the dusty streets she had from the windows of her living room. Every now and then he seemed to sigh sadly, as if he hadn't found what he'd expected to encounter.

"It's a luck you have that little evidence of your work lying around here," Claire said with a thankful nod as Jill handed her a cup. "His place is full of B.S.A.A. reports."

Jill chuckled.

"I know. Has he at least given up the habit of leaving his assault rifle lying on the countertop?"

That comment made Claire laugh, as she had used to _keep_ her handgun in the same spot at her place. Luckily, losing that habit was one of the previous New Year's resolutions she had actually achieved.

"I think it's usually on the TV table."

Jill rolled her eyes.

"Some things will never change."

Claire was propped against the wall, with her index finger resting on her lips and her thumb on the tip of her chin. Thoughtfully, she just hummed in response.

"I think it would be a good idea if he stayed here with you."

"What?" Jill's mouth dropped open, drawing an incredulous smirk as she listened to the redhead.

A strong vibe of pity underlined the redhead's voice and, though Jill hoped it was a joke, it was unmistakable that she was deadly serious about her proposition. She understood that Claire wanted to check Chris' place thoroughly for evidence of bioterrorism before letting her brother walk through the familiar rooms of his home, but something about the idea bothered her. The blonde swallowed, thrumming her fingers onto the marble surface of the counter behind her.

"Of course he can stay," she said as a shrug ran through her left shoulder. "But I just have one bedroom. Why doesn't he stay with _you_?"

That had been impertinent, she noted as Claire smiled slyly.

"My place is a mess, too," the redhead countered with a head shake. "I was working on a case before Christmas and my living and bedroom are still full of papers, pictures and reports. It won't be for long, I promise. A couple of nights and I will have made his apartment _amnesiac-safe_."

Jill chuckled slightly, but something about the situation made her wonder if they weren't taking their concerns a little too far. Claire promised to take care of Chris' place and get it ready as soon as possible, but when the redhead had left, Jill felt how much of a bad idea it had really been, as she eventually faced Chris completely alone, out of reach of anyone who could interrupt the situation loaded with doubt about what to say.

"So…" was the first thing she managed to speak. "Are you hungry?"

Chris shook his head and smiled before he turned back to the windows and looked down at the streets, where people ran hastily through the darkness of the winter night.

"This is a bit weird for me," he excused himself and made Jill laugh tenderly. She knew how he felt like, as it was weird for herself, too.

"Maybe you need some sleep. It's still a bit early but I think that you've overcome the recommended time to fight the jetlag."

He huffed out a laugh in response and nodded eventually.

"Yes, maybe I could try," he said and let Jill lead him to her bedroom, where Chris, surprised, fidgeted hesitantly.

"Wait, isn't this _your_ bedroom?" He asked as he pointed to the instrument that stood silently in the corner of the room. "You always like to have your piano close, don't you?"

Jill chuckled. Yes, young Chris Redfield used to know her very well.

"It's okay, Chris. I only have one room, but I'll be glad to leave my bed to you." She giggled. "Claire and I changed the sheets earlier."

Her friend and long-time partner huffed with regret. He couldn't just take Jill's bed and let her sleep…where, in the living room?

"No. Forget it." An energetic head shake emphasized his exclamation. "You sleep in your bed. I'll take the couch."

Jill smiled tenderly as she heard his words. He was such a gentleman, always so courteous and considerate with everybody. She patted his shoulder and winked playfully before she walked into her bedroom and dug out a fresh towel from the wardrobe.

"It's alright, Chris. I'm not sleepy yet and I probably won't be until early in the morning. I promise that tomorrow night I will _consider_ taking the bed myself, but tonight, please accept my friendly invitation. Tomorrow we'll have a lot of things to do, and I need you to rest."

She handed him the towel wrapped in soft laughter, and Chris couldn't help but accept the offer whole-heartedly. Thanking her quietly, he took the towels from her and let her indicate him the way to the bathroom. He watched Jill as she walked back into the living area. Before they lost sight of each other, though, he called her back.

"One more thing."

Jill blinked at him.

"Yes."

A sheepish grin spread across Chris' face as he pushed open the door to the bathroom.

"Did I _really_ never ask you out?"

Bewildered at first, Jill soon burst into full-throated laughter. Chris just smiled a little irritatedly until the blonde caught her breath again. What was she going to tell him now?

"Chris, we never had time for this."

They stood in the corridor, sharing one of their moments of wordless connection, that thing they had built up through years of fighting shoulder to shoulder, with their hearts beating in unison for the same, destructive cause and celebrating victories and grieving failures together. It was one of those moments she had started believing to have dreamt, when, after coming back from Kijuju, she and Chris had lost that invisible bond of theirs. She wasn't dreaming now. She was wide awake, and so was their partnership.

"Can I ask you out now?"

The blonde sucked in a shallow breath in response as her head tried to organize her thoughts rather unsuccessfully.

"Chris…"

"We'll have some time tomorrow, won't we?"

Damn, what was he doing to her with that cocky smile on that beautiful face of his? Jill tried to calm all those thoughts that were spinning in her mind and give Chris a convincing answer without offending him. Not an easy task to achieve.

"We will be busy tomorrow. We wanted to introduce you slowly to the present world, and I think that will be exciting enough."

Her words underlined by a flick of her tongue over her lips, she stared at Chris, hoping he would drop the subject soon. He kept smiling, without pushing further.

"I see," he said and momentarily turned to the bathroom door to turn the lights on. Jill was about to walk away when he added, "Before the end of the month, I will get you to go on a date with me, Valentine."

Her jaw dropped at his bold comment, her face unable to remain serious at the sight of the devilish grin of her partner. They exchanged more smiles before Chris disappeared behind the bathroom door and somehow left her with that uncomfortable pounding in her heart.


	5. Chapter 5

"Nivans!" Jill yelled into the phone, breathless after her sprint from the shower, through the corridor and into the kitchen, where she had mindlessly left the device after her first mug of morning coffee. "Is everything okay?"

The man on the other end of the line hesitated audibly, surprised by the question. Of course, he couldn't know that Jill's ringtone, starting off quiet and slow but increasing pace and volume with every second, had sounded as distressing as a fire alarm.

"_Uhm, yes_," he muttered. "_I was going to ask about your plans for the upcoming days. I mean, I'd like to help you with the planning._"

Jill found herself tucking some strands of wet hair behind her left ear as her heart recovered from the imaginary emergency she'd believed to face, wondering just when she had become so jumpy.

_Since you decided to lie to the organization you created yourself and hide your partner from them, maybe?_

"Oh." She eventually released the breath she was holding. "That's nice, Piers, thank you."

Once her tone had changed from anxiously alarming to a softer version, the young man on the other end seemed to relax too. They exchanged short pieces of information about the current situation at headquarters before Piers took the conversation back to the reason why he had called.

"_So, do you know already when you are going to return_?"

A thick knot built up in her throat and robbed her breath momentarily. Jill sighed softly and swallowed as she thought about the words she and Claire had been exchanging the previous day.

_Keep him away. Don't push him. He deserves a break._

As the little sister, Claire was allowed to wish her brother as far away as possible from trouble, but Jill, as another B.S.A.A. founder, had certain responsibilities among the soldiers, and keeping the truth about bioterror from her long-time partner was surely not something she should have been proud of.

"Don't count on us until next week," she said and surprised herself with her statement.

"_Us?_" The bafflement was evident in Piers' voice as he asked. "_You're not coming either?_"

She licked her lips and nodded, reinforcing her own words.

"Yes, I'd like to stay with him and make a controlled approach to things and surroundings that might trigger some memories," she said, unconvinced by her own lie.

Piers chuckled hesitantly.

"_I see,"_ he said. "_Yes, that makes sense. Do you want me to inform HR about this?"_

Her lips turned into a relieved smirk as she heard the young man's reaction to her petition, almost feeling bad for him as the dark undertone in his voice seemed to indicate that he had hoped to see his Captain back at work rather sooner than later.

"It's fine. I'm gonna call them later," she said and turned to the corridor, where Chris stood. "Piers, I have to hang up. Talk to you later."

Once the call had ended, Jill put the phone away and took a couple of steps towards the man, who was busy scratching the back of his head as his look was timidly set on the ground.

"Good morning," Jill greeted with a smile.

"Good morning," he replied, still avoiding her look.

"Are you alright?" she asked in concern. "Don't you feel well?"

The amusement was enormous when she understood that the reason why he wasn't looking at her was that she was standing practically naked in front of him, as the tiny towel she had urgently wrapped around her body on her way to the kitchen didn't cover much more than the most intimate parts. She found it cute. Over the years, Chris and she had gotten so used to each other; sharing rooms while on missions or spending weeks together without interruption; that they could easily walk around each other half-naked without invoking the slightest reaction of shame or embarrassment in the partner. It wasn't like Chris had become something like the gay friend she had always wished for; she had just stopped being a woman to him.

"I'm gonna get dressed," Jill whispered softly and quickly pushed herself down the corridor and into her bedroom.

* * *

"This is good," Chris exclaimed as he took another forkful of scrambled eggs and bacon.

After inspecting the emptiness of her fridge and kitchen cabinets, Jill and he had found nothing that could satisfy the enormous hunger of Chris Redfield, and so, they had gone out for breakfast, Jill leading the way to the 24/7 diner they always turned to when their shift had ended too late at night—or early in the morning, depending on how one liked to see it. Jill was sipping her third or fourth cup of coffee that morning and was finally beginning to feel somewhat awake.

"Are you sure you don't want some?" Chris asked innocently, lifting his fork with a small amount of steaming eggs to his partner's eye-level.

Jill shook her head slightly and laughed.

"No, thank you. Enjoy your meal."

Chris grimaced with annoyance, the fork still threateningly pointed at the blonde.

"Come on" You have to eat!" He insisted and shoved the fork into her face. "You're gonna pass out if you only have coffee for breakfast."

The tasty steam reached her nostrils and instantly made her mouth water in response. Jill's eyes jumped to Chris, who was smiling encouragingly at the chance to share his breakfast with her. She didn't want to offend him and, after licking her lips once, she decided she could do him that tiny favor and taste his food. Parting her lips, she gave him the chance to push the fork into her mouth and the delicious bit of scrambled eggs met her tongue.

"Mhh, they're really good."

Chris mirrored her smile, showing her a row of perfect teeth glimpsing through from behind his bearded face. She had nearly forgotten how incredibly handsome he was when he just smiled that carefreely, and how just a hint of happiness could put so much light onto his features.

"So? What are our plans for today?" The man asked when Jill had finished chewing.

"I thought I'd show you around," she said with a smirk. "Have you ever been to New York City before?"

He laughed, shaking his head in a ridiculing way.

"Not that I remember."

The blonde nodded, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"Then we have a lot of work to do, I guess. I'm gonna start with Manhattan." She pulled out a couple of notes and left it on the table. "It's gonna take us a while, so let's not waste any time."

Chris stretched and hopped off his seat to run after Jill with the energy of a twenty-five-year old.

"One thing," he called out for her and tensed his muscles when she turned. "Shouldn't I take care of these? I feel they're deflating and I would like to take good care of them."

Jill laughed whole-heartedly. With a hand on her chest, she exhaled deeply and winked at him.

"We can step by the gym if you want."

* * *

The breeze blew right into her face through the open window. If the second coffee she'd just had hadn't been enough to activate her, the cold air would surely keep her awake until lunchtime. Claire lit a cigarette and closed her eyes in pleasure as she took a long drag of whitish smoke.

A knock on the door caused the cigarette to drop automatically into the old paper coffee mug that served as a makeshift ashtray, and the redhead began to wave the smoke away as best as she could before spraying a stream of air freshener across the area over the desk.

"One second!" She yelled and tried to close the window in time, but Moira had already stormed into the office.

"Don't worry, I already know your bad habit," she muttered with a roll of her eyes and walked around the desk towards the redhead. "Happy New Year and so."

"Happy New Year, Moira, it's so good to see you," Claire responded and pulled the girl into a tight embrace. "And the only reason I smoke here is that I would lose too much time taking the elevator to the rooftop every fifteen minutes."

Moira snickered accusingly and turned around, dropping into one of the armchairs next to the desk.

"That bad, huh? I was hoping you'd give me a call to tell me you were back. How is Chris? Barry told me everything."

Claire sighed, reopening the window and resuming her soothing task of smoking, thinking that it was fairly impossible that Barry had told her _everything_ as they hadn't spoken since Christmas.

"We arrived yesterday. I just came to quickly check how things were going here but the director caught me and asked me for the overdue December reports." She shook her head. "Ass."

Moira hummed in response.

"I can help you if you need it."

Claire nodded.

"Thanks. And about Chris…" She let out a sigh that said everything. "It looks like the amnesia hasn't been caused by the hit on the head, but by a traumatic experience he's had."

Moira hung in the armchair like a bored queen, with her two arms stretching over the armrests and her legs crossed, giving Claire a baffled blink from below.

"What?"

She nodded, her view drifting to the skyline of the city in a gaze of sadness and incomprehension.

"Yeah, I still don't quite believe it either."

The phone on her desk began to beep; a sign for an incoming call from reception; and Claire blew out the current load of smoke into the cold air before pressing the button on the device.

"Yeah?"

"_Hey Claire,_" the sweet, feminine voice of Lindasy Adams, Terra Save's head receptionist, came from the speaker. "_Lieutenant Piers Nivans from the B.S.A.A. asks to speak to you._"

A soft grimace spread over Claire's face as she heard the name, wondering what the young soldier could possibly want.

"Okay," Claire said and flicked the dry ash into the paper mug. "Put him through. Thank you, Lindsay."

"_I mean, he's here._"

Her mouth dropped open at the confirmation of the unexpected visit. Grimacing softly, she tilted her head to the side and closed her eyes in defeat as Moira, who had been eyeing her curiously, began to separate her legs to slowly get up.

"Alright," Claire hissed annoyedly and shook her head. "Send him up."

When the call was cut, Moira appeared right next to her and elbowed her in the side.

"Who's Lieutenant Nivans and what does he want?"

Claire turned around, starting her office-smoking-hiding ritual from before in a hurry.

"He's my brother's second in command," she said and pursed her lips. "And I have no fucking idea what he wants."

A smug smirk blossomed on Moira's lips.

"Is he good-looking?"

Claire arched a brow at the bold question, considering it a second before saying, "I don't think I've ever thought about that…"

Before Moira could even think of a reply, someone knocked on the door.

"Fuck!" Claire hid the ashtray in the upper drawer of her desk and took a deep breath. "Come in!"

Piers was in jeans, a dark shirt and the olive green jacket with the B.S.A.A. emblem on the sleeve, and just as he walked into the room he had Moira's full attention. The girl tilted her head in order to check him from different angles.

"Piers, hey!" Claire greeted and advanced a step to shake the man's head. "What a surprise to see you here. Is everything okay?"

The young man returned her friendly greeting before something—probably the remaining smell of smoke and air freshener in the air—made him laugh softly.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I bother. I just wanted to leave this for you," he said and it wasn't until then that Claire noticed the package he had clutched under his arm.

"What's this?" she asked curiously, and was rather disappointed by the answer.

"Your brother's uniform."

And her eyebrows dropped into a frown as she received the package, and her mouth was unable to say anything else than a dark, "Oh."

Piers hummed softly.

"I spoke to Jill Valentine this morning and she said she was taking some days off to start reintroducing Chris to…" He paused as though he was searching for the right words. "To the present time. But she mentioned that you might get back to work earlier, so I thought I'd leave this for you so you could show him what he does for a living. It's clean, of course." He shrugged. "I wasn't expecting you to be back already, but when the receptionist mentioned you had returned, I preferred giving it to you personally."

Claire smiled a little. Behind his annoying cover, Piers was a very polite man and a dedicated soldier through and through, and she hated that he was so charming at the same time he was being such a pain in the ass.

"Thank you," she said with a smile. "I will probably see them tonight, so…"

Before she could give away more information, luckily, Moira cleared her throat behind them and caused the two to turn.

"Oh!" Claire exclaimed, excusing herself for her rudeness. "I'm sorry. This is Moira Burton. Moira, this is Piers Nivans. He works with Chris."

Piers took a step towards Moira, careful not to invade Claire's workspace any more than necessary, and received the girl's handshake with an amiable gesture.

"Nice to meet you," he said. "Burton? Like Barry Burton?"

Moira replied with a laugh.

"Yup. Incredible, right?" She replied with a shrug. "I had to take a paternity test to believe it, too, but it seems that stinky old man is really my progenitor."

The young soldier's first reaction to the girl's comment was astonished silence, but as she kept laughing, he eventually decided to relax and rolled his eyes in response.

"I guess we all feel embarrassed for our parents' behavior in public."

Moira, still shaking his hand like they'd been glued together, laughed out once more.

"Yeah, maybe."

Once Piers had let go of Moira's hand, he turned back to the door.

"So, if you need anything else, just let me know, okay?" he said and gave Claire one last glance before he put his hand onto the doorknob. "No matter what time it is."

Claire breathed out a grateful expression and walked past him towards the door.

"Thank you, Piers."

"You're welcome," he mouthed and waved at Moira. "It was a pleasure, Moira."

Before he opened the door, though, he turned back to Claire.

"Oh, by the way," he said with a grin. "When your brother wants to smoke in his office, he puts a fan in front of the window and blows the smoke into it from behind. It works incredibly well."

Cheeks flushed with red, Claire could barely force out an embarrassed _thank you_ before her eyes dropped to the package in her hands. What the fuck was she going to do with that thing, now? The last thing she wanted for Chris to know was what kind of heavy gear he was forced to wear on his assignments and the uniform was part of it.

"For your information," Moira's voice startled her. "Yes, he is good-looking."

Once drawn back to reality, Clair huffed out a laugh and frowned at her friend.

"In my opinion, you should stay away from him, but as you're always doing what you want, let me tell you that he's either gay or married to his job." She paused for a second. "Or both."

Moira, unimpressed, laughed darkly.

"Not gay, my dear. You should have seen how hard he was trying to keep his eyes focused on your face if you know what I mean," she explained amusedly as her finger waved at the redhead in chest-height. "Also, he said he wanted to _give it to you_. Personally."

"Oh my god, you have no shame," Claire replied with a laugh and turned to the shelf next to the door. Moira watched attentively as the redhead tucked the package unopened into a free space between old documents and folders.

"You're gonna forget it if you keep it there."

Claire hummed in response and gave the girl a dark look as she turned back to her desk.

"Yes, I know."

* * *

Jill couldn't remember the last time she'd had that much fun. She and Chris had spent the whole day together, taking endless walks through the streets of Manhattan, taking the subway, visiting the gym together and rewarding themselves for their hard workout sessions with a delicious lunch at what Chris used to call his favorite place before losing his memory. All throughout the day, she hadn't stopped talking to him about what had happened in the fifteen years he had missed out on.

"My mother read _The Lord of the Rings_ to me when I was a boy," he exclaimed cheerfully when they climbed up the stairs to the floor where Jill's apartment lay. "I can't believe they made three movies of them."

Jill chuckled. No wonder how Chris had become the justice-seeking man she knew, if he had been fed epic novels since he was a kid.

"There's one about the Hobbit, too," she said as she pulled out her set of keys and turned to the lock. "I think it's gonna be a trilogy, too."

Chris propped against the wall next to the door, with his arms crossed and his eyes wide open.

"You gotta be kidding me! How can you just say that and remain totally calm? We have to watch them!"

The blonde stared at him in bewilderment as she turned the key. In all the years of partnership, Chris had never mentioned to her that he was a fan of epic fantasy stories. As she pushed the door open and walked into her apartment, Chris stayed in the corridor.

"And what's the next big revelation? That there's a movie of _A Song of Ice and Fire_, perhaps?"

Jill turned to face him, her confirming silence causing Chris to place a theatrical hand onto his chest and inhale in offence.

"Oh my god."

She laughed.

"I think it's a TV show, though."

They laughed as she held the door open for him to enter. Before he could disappear inside the apartment, though, they heard a loud, beary voice call out for them.

"Chris, Jill!"

The blonde stuck her head out and peaked into the corridor, pleasantly surprised by the image of Barry Burton carrying a six pack of beer under his arm.

"Barry!"

That had been one surprise too much for Chris, it seemed, as Jill found her long-time partner gasping in confusion as he stared at the approaching man.

"Claire told Moira you were back from Europe. Thank God that my oldest knows how to keep her eyes and ears open. I wouldn't know anything about you two otherwise." He laughed and put a hand onto Chris' shoulder. "So, you're still amnesiac, aren't you? Anyway, we're glad to have you back."

Chris swallowed at the sight of his old friend, shaking his head softly before even being able to greet him properly.

"Burton," he breathed, closely inspecting the man. "Fuck! You look old and wasted. What have you been eating all these years?"

The last words were underlined with a pat onto the man's stomach, which made them both laugh. Jill watched them, catching herself with a feeling of dejà-vu. Something she had felt too often that day. She pointed into the apartment.

"You want to come in?"

* * *

"I'm surprised how neat and clean your apartment is, Jill," he said when Chris had gone to the bathroom. Jill took a sip from her beer and sighed.

"You mean because I don't have guns lying around so my eight-year-old daughter could shoot her sister in the abdomen?"

Dark eyes jumped to the blonde in a sarcastic expression.

"I mean that you don't have any Christmas decorations here," he said, pointing at the surroundings. "No tree, no candles. I thought you left on Christmas Eve and came back just yesterday. Have you removed them all?·

Jill sighed a little sadly. She had never been a huge fan of Christmas, but in the past, even after the events of Raccoon City, they had often found the time to spend the holidays together. That had changed over the years, though — it had changed after she had died in the Spencer Estate — and Jill had stopped caring about home decorations and Christmas, mostly because she spent so much time working that her office was more of a home to her than her apartment.

"I was pretty busy before the holidays. Edonia was keeping us all on alert."

Barry nodded, a sad smile of comfort spreading over his bearded face as he remembered all the losses they'd suffered.

"Poor kids," he muttered before turning to Jill in excitement. "Oh, you know who finally joined the South American branch? Carlos Oliveira!"

Jill sat her bottle down with a loud clunk.

"You're kidding! When did that happen?"

Barry laughed out loud.

"Pretty recently. I think he joined in December, but he's already standing out of the rows of common soldiers."

Jill smirked, as proud as if she had recruited Carlos herself.

"He's a great soldier and I'm glad he finally made his mind up. He'll be a very valuable member of the team." She slid the pad of her thumb over the label of her bottle in thought and narrowed her eyes. "I just wonder why he didn't notify me."

Barry laughed again.

"Maybe because he doesn't want you to move any strings to benefit him," he said in a fatherly tone and launched an expectant glance at the blonde. "I think he still believes you wouldn't have made it out of Raccoon City without him."

A deep breath filled her lungs before her eyes fell shut and the two shared a laugh. The sound of the toilet flush caused them to drop the subject and wait for Chris to come back.

"So," Barry said as the younger man sat down again. "Have you watched all the Harry Potter movies already?"

* * *

"Shit, I totally forgot to do the grocery shopping," Jill hissed as she had another look into her kitchen cabinets and found nothing but heart-clenching emptiness behind a bag of flour and an expired bottle of tomato ketchup. "Barry could have brought dinner instead of beer."

When she turned around to tell Chris that they would either have to order something or leave the house again, she found a very concerning look on his bearded face.

"Are you okay?"

Chris was leaned against the wall, watching her every move with an ice-cold serenity that would have frightened even the biggest B.O.W.

"Who is Carlos?"

She froze on the spot, happy that she wasn't carrying anything in her hands she could have droppen in shock.

"What?" she whispered fearfully. "What do you know about Carlos?"

His eyes turned into spears that seemed to bore into her, digging for the truth somewhere behind her ribcage. He didn't know—couldn't know—that this truth could hurt them both up to a point where there was no turning back.

"Barry said he got you out of Raccoon City," he said with a voice so low she could barely understand a word. "I don't understand it, Jill. What happened? Why weren't you with me?" He took a step towards her. "Or am I the one you were running from?"

She sucked in a breath and began to shake her head eagerly.

"No. No, no, no," she hissed as she jumped to him and cupped his chin. "No, Chris, no. Listen. Don't ever say that again, okay? How can you even believe that?"

Chris huffed out a laugh, trying to be relieved, but failing.

"Then tell me the truth, Jill." He kept staring into her eyes as his hands rose to hold her shoulders. "How did I fail you?"

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her mind searched vaguely for a good reason why she could have fled from that city. Something different than a zombie apocalypse, ideally. After anxiously clearing her throat, she tried a story as close to the truth as possible.

"In 1998, S.T.A.R.S. Alpha team became the target of a witch hunt," she started. "Our unit hadn't been solving many cases in the recent past so someone started blaming us for those murders in the Arklay Mountains. Wesker was the first one to be accused of having murdered those people so S.T.A.R.S. could solve the case and become heroes. The next one was Joseph, followed by you and Barry." She shrugged. "When the complete R.P.D. decided to go after Brad and me, you were already long gone."

An expression of disbelief too over Chris' features as he listened to Jill's made up alternate universe, which she found has sounded pretty plausible.

"A-and," he stuttered. "That Carlos guy?"

"Oh, right!" Jill patted her head as if she had forgotten to mention the young man. "He was a soldier in the Brazilian army and he was just driving through Raccoon City. We met at that gas station out of town. You remember it?" At Chris' nod, Jill continued her tale. "When I had paid for the gas, the rowdy Raccoon crowd had found me and was already taking over my car. Carlos was so nice to help me get out of the city unseen."

After concluding the story, Jill scrutinized his face for more hesitation, but found nothing but regret on it. His lip twitched uncomfortably and he huffed.

"I left you alone?" He asked and caused her to pout in response. Yes, he had left her alone indeed, searching for the heart of Umbrella all by himself because he had wanted to know her safe. How could he have known that the very hometown of the Umbrella Corporation would be the first one to fall due to their own virus?

"You had to," she whispered and smiled encouragingly, patting the cheek she had been holding so far. "It's okay, Chris. We all did what we had to do. When they eventually accepted that it had been…" she sighed at the hardest lie of them all. "Wolves who had been murdering people, we could return."

Chris frowned, almost questioning the last part of her story, but fortunately interrupted by the doorbell, which Jill turned to to open it.

"Claire!" she exclaimed happily, both at the sight of the redhead as at the bags of Thai food she was carrying.

"Hey!" The other woman stepped into the apartment and pushed the bags into Jill's arms before hugging her brother. "Had dinner yet?"

Chris shook his head, his moody attitude blown completely vanished from his face as he saw his sister.

"No, we were just talking about going out," he said and rubbed Claire's ponytail. "Did you know that there are eight Harry Potter movies?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add some comment about Jill tasting Chris' eggs, but it kinda didn't happen LOL
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

The cursor was trying to provoke him, clearly. The obsessive blinking of black on white background highlighted the emptiness of the blank page and Piers could have sworn that his heart had started thrumming at the same accelerated, nerve-wrecking pace. Why was the writing of this report resulting so fucking hard? He had written tons of reports in the past, reports about longer interventions and more difficult assignments, and it had never been a problem.

Situation, Mission and Execution. Explain the intervention. State any new kind of virus and B.O.W. you encountered. Describe what went well and what went wrong. Note down where the samples had been taken to. Name. Position. Signature.

The last assignment had been easy. A short trip to Canada for him and a couple of ex-Bravo members who had been promoted after the fall of Alpha team in Edonia, to meet up with a reliable source for a lead on Ada Wong. It had concluded in the cleaning of an old lab full of B.O.W.s, including the reliable source—one of their best informants in the North American territory—who had been infected and killed before they had even arrived. Bad luck it was, but everyone agreed that the old man was the one to blame, as he could have perfectly chosen a more peaceful place for their meeting instead of luring them into the empty, dark underground lab.

Piers sighed and typed the current date into the editor— _Monday, 4th of February, 2013 _—before hitting the enter key and making the rude little cursor jump to the next line. Over a month had passed since Chris and he had been rescued from the dark City Hall of Edonia, since the mission had failed and concluded officially and since he had written his last report on the subject. Over a month since he was the last man standing—or at least it felt like he was the last one. He still remembered every awful detail about that fateful day in the City Hall, how they had found the people turned, the awful sound the cocoons made when they cracked open and the stretched arm of Finn Macauley trying to reach the supporting hand of his Captain as his skin began to burn. Everything.

However, he barely remembered the recent assignment.

"Nivans!"

The door flew open unannounced and interrupted his musings. Piers's steelern look drove to the source of the disturbance, B.S.A.A. Director Johnson.

"Sir."

He lifted himself from the seat as the older man stepped into the office.

"I see that you took my advice," he said and gestured to the desk. "You'll get more work done here, won't you?"

Piers swallowed, forcing himself to nod at the comment. _Here _was referring to Chris' office, which he had been suggested to occupy as long as his Captain was unavailable.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Johnson nodded in silence, his lips turning into a displeased pout that looked rather unfitting on a man in an established position like his.

"One question, Nivans," he eventually said, turning his head to the ground as if he didn't want to look his man into the eyes when he gave him the bad news. "I was expecting Captain Redfield back this week, but I just heard that he hasn't even come in to get the medical team to check on him." He frowned, arms crossed in front of his chest. "Can you tell me what he's waiting for?"

Piers cleared his throat, unsure of what information to give away. Was he even the right source to question?

"The Captain went through the first checks in Edonia. After the hospital there, two psychologists working with Rebecca Chambers examined him. I supposed they had sent their reports to the B.S.A.A."

Johnson grunted.

"Ah, right. Doctor Harrison and Doctor…"

"Zink," Piers finished his sentence and the older man nodded.

"Doctor Zink, yes," he muttered and scratched his bearded jaw. "Yeah, I prefer he gets examined by our own people, so please make sure he steps by as soon as possible. Their diagnosis was confusing."

Confusing was the fact that the B.S.A.A. was still standing with a good-for-nothing like Johnson as a director, Piers thought as he felt his head drop into a short nod against his will.

"Yes, sir," he said in a low voice. "I will take care of it."

A smirk of satisfaction grew on the director's face as he patted his shoulder and turned back to the door.

"Fine. The new recruits are starting today and you might want to meet them on the training ground at four. I also expect that report on my desk this afternoon," he said when he put one hand on the handle. Before turning it, though, he added, "Oh, Nivans?"

Piers, far from relaxing, looked back at the director.

"Yes, sir?"

"Any idea why Valentine hasn't returned yet? She practically lived here before her trip to Edonia and now it seems she's afraid of coming to work."

The young soldier sucked in a sharp breath and licked his lips before shrugging softly.

"As far as I know, she's helping the Captain get his memory back."

Johnson huffed out a short laugh before opening the door and leaving without another word. Piers exhaled, rolling his eyes as soon as the older man couldn't see him anymore. If the director had really read Dr. Zink's report on Chris' amnesia, he was probably aware of the huge gap the Captain had to fill, and that it would take some time to make a tiny progress. He turned back to the desk and sank into the chair, a little disappointed that the report hadn't typed itself in the meantime. The cursor was still happily flashing in the left corner of the document, waiting for him to decide its destiny, and Piers suddenly knew what was bothering him about it.

He didn't want to decide anything.

He wanted to follow orders and not care about new recruits or leading teams.

He wanted things to be the way they had been before Edonia.

And he desperately wanted his Captain to return.

* * *

"So, what are we gonna do today?"

Jill laughed softly as the question she'd been asked every single morning since they'd returned from Europe rang her awake once more as soon as she entered the kitchen. Chris had started the habit of getting up early and going for a run, which reminded her somehow of the man he'd been before Edonia—only that he didn't grunt that much and laughed a lot more.

"I don't know," she said and shrugged, dragging herself towards the coffee maker. "I've honestly run out of options and you probably know more about the past and present than I do."

Yes, she had done quite a good job keeping Chris busy. She had taken him on walks and trips through the whole city and surroundings. They had watched all important movies and TV shows he had _never _seen and she had given him a complete update about the political situation of their own country and many more. Now, though, after several weeks with stuffed schedules, she was running out of ideas.

Chris laughed at her comment and, with his elbows resting on the counter, he propped his head up as his eyes rolled from one side to the other, indicating an intense exercise of thought.

"How about a trip to Raccoon City?" he suggested and caused Jill to clink her empty coffee mug against the marble surface in shock. "You mentioned that all of our friends and colleagues left the city, but I'd really like to see how damaged the place is thanks to Irons' management."

Jill swallowed, taking the time she poured herself some coffee to gather her thoughts. She somehow needed to dissuade Chris from the visit to Raccoon.

"Oh!" She turned around and smiled widely. "I would love that, but I don't think we can make it to Raccoon and back in just one day."

Chris returned the laugh and nodded.

"Well, back in the nineties there were several motels in town. We'll surely find a place to stay the night."

Damn, how could he be so convincing with a couple of crumbling suppositions while she, with very good reasons to stay away from whatever desertous flatland Racoon City was now, couldn't find arguments to talk him out of it? Jill, who was already toying with the thought of cutting the brake fluid hose of her car to have a reason for them to stay home, sighed in relief as someone rang the doorbell.

"I'll open!" Chris said and jogged towards the door, cheering loudly at the redhead that came in and at the paper bags full of donuts in her arms.

"Morning! Breakfast is here!" Claire said and walked into the living room, unloading both arms as she threw the bags onto the table. "I hope you're hungry."

Jill smirked relaxedly as she saw that Chris had turned his attention fully to his sister.

"Hey Claire," he said as he helped himself to a sugar-coated donut. "You want to come with us to Raccoon City?"

Jill's eyes shot to the redhead, curious about how she was going to respond to her brother's petition. Surprisingly, Claire nodded in cheerful agreement.

"Raccoon City? Today? Well, that's a great idea!" She exclaimed and left Jill stunned. "But I'd suggest you wait until next month when they organize the Raccoon festival to honor their mascot, and all people gather there to celebrate. It's just the third edition, but it's quite popular and you might even meet some of your old colleagues at the event."

Jill's eyes fluttered open in shock as she heard Claire's story, astonished by how easily the younger woman convinced her brother to postpone his trip to their old hometown to later. She hadn't even blinked nor hesitated when she'd blurted out the story about the festival, as naturally as if she'd actually planned on visiting the destroyed city someday, and Chris seemed to be satisfied with the explanation.

"How do you do this?" Jill ungently tugged on Claire's elbow when Chris had absented himself for a moment. "How can you lie to him that easily?"

The redhead smirked, pushing her hand into the paper bag again.

"Chris used to keep the rules at home very strict. He might have believed that being home at ten was gonna keep me from taking drugs and prostituting myself, but as a teenager I ignored all his well-willed attempts to turn me into a responsible adult and got pretty good at coming up with all kinds of excuses." She bit the donut and chewed as she shrugged. "Also, this is still part of my revenge for keeping the truth about Raccoon City from me."

Jill quirked an eyebrow at the redhead's reasoning, but eventually laughed at the absurdity of it.

"Oh, Claire," she sighed, forcing down the laughter. "I wish I could be as easy-going as you about all this. I'm not sure if I'm going to withstand the need to tell him."

Claire rolled her eyes and accusingly pointed the donut at the blonde.

"Yes you are," she said. "You have to be, Jill. Look at how happy he is now. Isn't this worth all the lies in the world?"

The blonde hesitated, wondering for how much longer Chris' carefree attitude would effectively serve as reason for Claire to be selfishly irresponsible.

"He hasn't stopped asking about Carlos Oliveira," she replied, showering Claire with all kinds of blaming looks, at which the redhead laughed half-heartedly.

"You tell him about your hot Brazilian ex boyfriend and expect him to keep cool?" She giggled and accepted Jill's judging glance with a challenging smirk.

"First," the blond countered lifting a finger. "He was and will never be my boyfriend. Second, I didn't tell him about him; Barry did. And third." Another two fingers followed. "This is not the only thing that is making this situation insufferable."

With those words, her look dropped to her phone on the table in front of them, which was casually starting to buzz wildly, showing the name of Piers Nivans flashing up on the screen.

Jill sighed.

"That's the other one. He calls me every day and asks when we are going to come back."

Claire's eyebrows rose slowly, her finger driving to the touch screen to press the red reject-call button.

"That's how it's done," she said and put the phone into flight mode afterwards. "Easy!"

Jill rolled her eyes in anger.

"You know he's soon gonna start calling you if I don't respond, don't you?"

Claire laughed.

"Yes," she said with a shrug. "But once I tell him that you and Chris are a couple now and that you need some privacy, he'll stop bothering."

Jill's eyes narrowed in response to the bold comment Claire had just rewarded her with, but before she could come up with an equally aggressive reply, the bathroom door opened and Chris walked back into the living room.

"So," he said after taking a long sip from his coffee. "If we don't go to Raccoon, what else can we do today?"

His lip twitched so deliciously that it made Claire's heart jump in delight. With a suggestive smile on her face, she pulled out a set of keys and let it dangle playfully in front of Chris' eyes.

"You could have a look at your apartment," she said and waved the fingers of her free hand next to her head. "Maybe you remember something about your earlier life."

Jill, still annoyed with Claire's attitude, turned to face the redhead in bafflement.

"What?" she mouthed silently and waited until Chris excused himself and walked away to get dressed, the keys tight in his hands. "Now you want him to remember?"

"He won't," the redhead said, shaking her head. "It's all gone."

Jill let out a dark sigh and turned to the kitchen, willing to grab another mug of coffee before going out.

* * *

Valentine had turned her phone off in the early morning after ignoring his first call. The Redfield woman had barely responded to his questions about his Captain's whereabouts, giving some unrealistic excuses about a trip to nature to regain his memory, when all his Captain needed was to get back to the B.S.A.A. and meet up with his old comrades — those who were still alive. Maybe the pictures of those who had fallen would help him recover whatever his mind had locked away deep between the folds of his brain. Whatever it was that would finally bring his memory back, he wasn't going to find it unless he wasn't confronted with images of the reality of bioterrorism.

Piers was skipping lunch that day, willing to check himself how their plans to make Chris remember were working. The fact that his Captain didn't know shit about B.O.W.s and that he wasn't in HQ to work on it was slowly gnawing on his sanity and his reputation in the B.S.A.A., and Piers couldn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't going as planned. The sensation increased with every step he took towards the door of Jill Valentine's apartment, reaching its climax when he rang the doorbell and nothing happened.

"Fuck," he hissed and rang again, softly knocking on the door afterwards. "Agent Valentine?"

He gave up after another minute. His head dropped against the door right where his knuckles had impacted for the last time, and he gave in to all kinds of nasty thoughts. Why was he the only one who seemed truly worried about Chris' recovery?

He pulled out his phone and dialed Valentine's number for the tenth time that day. At least, she had turned the device back on, but the fact that she still wasn't answering his calls caused the bile to rise into his throat.

Piers punched the door and pushed himself away from it before he disappeared into the staircase again. Someone was going to give him the answers he needed and deserved. And they were going to give him those answers very soon.

* * *

Jill had led the way up to Chris' apartment door, but it was her old partner who eventually pushed the key into the lock.

"Are you still as skilled with the lockpick as you used to be?" he asked as he turned the key and pushed the door open. "Barry used to call you _Master of Unlocking_, remember?"

As if she could ever forget that title, after hearing Barry say it even in the Arklay Mansion. So, she nodded and laughed.

"Yes, of course," she said and laughed, tilting her head to the right. "And I'm still amazing at lockpicking, but I'd rather not make myself guilty of breaking into your apartment. Especially when you have the key."

Chris laughed in reply as they walked into the apartment and looked around in awe. Jill admitted that Claire had done quite a good job cleaning the place— although it had taken her long enough to do so— and nothing was left there to remind them of anything related to bioterror. Chris blew out a breath of admiration.

"Wow! Is this really my place?" he exclaimed in disbelief. "It's so clean."

Jill snickered at his comment, clearly remembering that the last time she'd stood in his apartment it had still looked like it belonged to the walking mess her partner had always been. Before she could reply, though, her phone began to buzz in her pocket again.

"Shit," she hissed inaudibly as she saw that Piers was calling again, soon regretting having turned the device back on after keeping it in flight mode for several hours. She rejected the call once more and turned back to Chris.

"Do you remember anything?" she asked and watched him inspect the shelves closely. A couple of pictures of himself was all Claire had left from the time he had lost. All those photographs that documented his career in the B.S.A.A. had vanished.

Chris grunted.

"No," he said and laughed.

He laughed.

He laughed and stole Jill's breath, because in the middle of the emptiness that was his life, there was nothing that seemed to indicate that he hadn't actually missed out on anything.

"Want us to have a look at your wardrobe?" she asked and pointed at the door to his bedroom. "This way."

* * *

As breakfast had been caloric enough, Claire had chosen a green salad for lunch. It wasn't only the healthiest option the diner had available, it was also the quickest one, which would allow her return to the office within the expected twenty minutes. Too bad that the dressing had those woody pieces of dried parsley in it, that settled down between the teeth and refused to ever leave if they weren't threatened with the bristles of the toothbrush. And so, Claire found herself engaged in the frantic rubbing of her tongue over her teeth, in hope she would, at least, loosen the ugly green stuff, hoping nobody would bother her before she hadn't gotten to brush her teeth. When the elevator doors slid shut, closing only herself in the cabin, she let out a sigh of relief. A sigh that got stuck in the middle of her throat as the doors stopped closing and moved back open, unveiling the figure that had so boldly decided to disturb her ride up to the floor where Terra Save had their headquarters.

"Fuck," she hissed under her breath, not only because of the unexpected company on her way up, but because of who had just stepped into the elevator with her.

"Claire. Great I just came to speak to you."

She gave Piers a displeased look and pushed the button to her floor once more.

"Hey," she eventually replied, trying not to show him her teeth. "How can I help you?"

The cabin began to rise again and the young soldier smiled a little perplexedly, with his eyebrows lifted.

"You know how you can help me," he said and leaned against the wall. "Your brother was expected to come back two weeks ago. People are asking questions, Claire, and I really don't understand Valentine's role in all this. She's not taking my calls anymore."

The redhead sighed, excusing herself with a gesture of uncertainty.

"I can't tell you what Jill's plans are, Piers," she said smiling softly. "But I can assure you that she's preparing his return. Maybe she took him to the ruins of Raccoon City. That's hard to say. I haven't spoken to either of them for days now, but I know that Jill wants him back in the B.S.A.A. as much as you do."

Piers licked his lips and took a deep breath.

"I don't doubt that," he said as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. "But I need to know when I can expect my Captain to get back. We need to know when we can start the training again."

Claire blinked coldly, untouched by Piers' wish to send her brother back to work and the dangers of the field. The man sighed at her lack of reaction.

"Are you at least trying to bring his memory back?" he asked. "Showing him stuff from his past?"

Eyes wide-open, she nodded slowly.

"Yes, of course," she muttered and smiled. "You can trust us, Piers. We are just making a slow approach."

The elevator reached the target floor and Claire pushed out of the cabin as soon as the doors opened, Piers following the annoyed redhead closely as she walked past the front desk and toward her office.

"That's great," Piers said as he stomped after her. "I really want the Captain to recover as comfortably as possible."

When they reached the office door and Claire stopped to pull out her keys, Piers took the chance to stand beside her.

"Have you made any advances so far?"

Claire held her breath when the lock clicked open. Before giving herself and Piers access to her office, she looked at him with a grin.

"Yes," she said and nodded eagerly. "He recognizes faces in pictures we've shown him. People from the B.S.A.A., like Sheva Alomar, Quint Cetcham and your Director Johnson."

She couldn't remember where exactly she had heard Quint's name, but she was absolutely sure that Sheva Alomar was the West-African S.O.A who had been Chris' partner when they'd saved Jill in Africa three years before. Piers seemed to believe the news, as a happy grin full of hope spread over his face.

"Really?" He asked as he followed her into her office. "That's great."

As Claire dropped into her chair, Piers stood in front of the desk, facing her.

"So, I assume you're soon gonna bring him back to headquarters," he said, giving her a shy look at which the redhead laughed.

"I told you I don't know what plans Jill has," she said and flipped her laptop open. "You will have to trust her."

The soldier huffed out a laugh and nodded, with his lip twitching in embarrassment.

"Thank you, Claire, and forgive the interruption," he said and was rewarded with another smile before he turned away.

He had taken only a couple of steps when Claire became aware of her mistake, because after stopping and watching the surroundings for a second, Piers walked straight to the shelf next to the door and pulled out the package he had brought over himself weeks before. The one that contained Chris' B.S.A.A. uniform.

"So, uhm, you're showing him stuff?"

Claire froze in her chair, her hands holding on to the armrest as if she was afraid she'd slip off of it.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice filled with the weight of a guilt only a busted liar could fathom as Piers rubbed the upper side of the package with a dark smile on his lips.

"And I assume you were just keeping this here because…" his stare through narrowed eyes invited Claire to continue his words and tell him just why she hadn't even bothered to take the uniform home, evidently ready for her to equivocate again.

Claire cleared her throat.

"I was just gonna show him tonight," she said and met Piers incredulous eyes.

"Really? Tonight?" He laughed sarcastically. "I thought you hadn't spoken to them in days and that they were probably on a trip to Raccoon City."

Claire exhaled at how he was altering her version of the facts and wondered if she was the only one in this story who wasn't turning into a complete drama queen.

"I mean, I was gonna take it but-" she was interrupted by the sound of the package impacting against the shelf as Piers tossed it angrily through the room.

"Don't fuck with me, Claire," he yelled as his finger darted at her in a blaming gesture. "You never even tried to make him remember, did you?"

The redhead jumped onto her feet and hit the surface of her desk so hard with both palms that the laptop on it seemed to jump a little.

"How dare you?" She yelled and shook her head so wildly that her ponytail fluttered. "We are doing everything to help him."

Piers huffed out a laugh and collected the uniform from the ground before turning back to the door.

"If you're not taking care of this," he said and pulled the door open. "I am."

Claire watched as the young soldier left her office and dropped back into her chair. That stupid kid would destroy her plans for Chris' happiness if she didn't react immediately, and she was too stubborn and too proud to let someone like him achieve that. After sucking in a breath, she reached for the phone in her pocket.

* * *

"Claire should have brought over these clothes," Chris said stretching his arms in front of the mirror. "I like how they look on me."

Jill laughed loudly from her position on the edge of his bed, rubbing her already aching belly. Seeing a big guy like Chris try on all of his clothes and pose in front of the mirror like a skinny fashion model was the most hilarious thing she'd ever witness, and after a first session of animated giggles, she was now curling herself in laughter.

"She might have thought that the short sleeves were inappropriate for the cold winter mornings."

Chris made a face and began to pull the hem up again, and Jill found herself reacting in a very uncommon way.

She was staring at him.

Chris was easy to look at, admittedly. All pumped up muscle and tight skin were the reason why so many B.S.A.A. colleagues— male and female— were drooling whenever the Alpha-team Captain walked into the room, but she had always known that their friendship didn't need the complementary physical attraction and subsequent casual sex to work. Jill shook the thought off quickly. She herself was supposed to be more professional than the twenty-year olds who had just started their position at the B.S.A.A. reception front desk.

And even so, she was still staring.

Her phone began to buzz once more and she expected to read the same disturbing name that had been bothering her the whole morning long. However, this time, it wasn't Piers who was calling. She hit the answer button and pressed the device to her ear.

"Claire!"

"_What did I tell you about turning your phone back on?"_ The high-pitched voice of the redhead told Jill that something was upsetting her friend.

"Claire," she said. "What's wrong?"

The redhead sighed through the line.

"_Listen, Jill, I need you to disappear. Are you still at Chris' place?"_

Jill frowned at the news, her look drifting to Chris as she assimilated what Claire was telling her.

"Yeah…?"

A cheerful laugh came from the other end.

"_Thank god. Please, open the last drawer of Chris' nightstand_."

The blonde turned to the bedside table behind her and did as she was told. The drawer was empty except for a set of keys with a plastic tag that said _Cabin_.

"Uhm, got it, I think."

Claire chuckled.

"_Leave everything behind, Jill. I will send you the coordinates right now_."


	7. Chapter 7

Fifty-five minutes from Chris' apartment to the station at peak time; twenty-nine minutes more until the train arrived and, so far, four and a half hours on a train southwards made almost five hours of journey, alone with Chris and her own thoughts, and Jill hadn't understood yet how effortlessly Claire had talked her into escaping the city with Chris, fleeing from Piers Nivans or some other fool in the B.S.A.A..

_You know what? Forget the car. Leave it back home, too. You might be spotted somewhere, you never know. Take the train instead, but be careful when you enter the station._

Claire had messed up their nice, calm Friday with a massive trip to the end of the world, and Jill hadn't had the chance, guts or will to protest, finding herself following the younger woman's orders like a helpless little girl who feared the outer world, needing the lead of someone stronger than her to feel safe, when she had never needed anything nor anyone to make decisions for her. And there was, certainly, no one as strong as she was.

_You're going to a place called Cedar Grove. Chris knows it well._

And now she had, probably, the complete B.S.A.A. after her, following her like she was some sort of criminal on the run, when all she wanted—all what Claire wanted—was a little time off for Chris. Jill's look wandered to the man in front of her, wondering what exactly he knew about that random place that sounded like it shared its name, surrounding and atmosphere with a hundred dozens of other small towns in the US. He sat across from her in the seat, with earbuds in his ears and moving his head to the music he was obviously listening to and the sight of it blew away all her annoyance, as her old partner looked so carefree and undisturbed that the blonde found herself smiling at the picture. He was moving his toned neck to the sound of whatever was playing in his ears and Jill wondered what kind of music was keeping him so captivated. When Chris turned his gaze from the window to his companion, he began to smile widely and pulled the earbuds out.

"Hey, are you better?" He asked innocently when his hands dropped to his thighs. "You seemed angry before."

Jill smiled softly and shook her head, shrugging the subject off.

"It's nothing," she replied with a wink. "What are you listening to?"

He smirked slyly and leaned over to push one of the buds into her left ear, and the blonde burst into loud laughter instantly when the hard rock music she'd expected to come through the speaker actually turned into the most mainstream option to be considered.

_Ra-ra-ah-ah-ah_

_Roma-roma-ma_

_Gaga, ooh la-la_

_Want your bad romance_

Chris pouted so deliciously when he pulled the earbud back to him that it pushed Jill to laugh even louder, making it hard for the people around them to avoid staring at the strong man and the beautiful blonde by his side, who looked like a couple and acted like old friends—when they knew practically nothing about each other anymore. When Jill caught her breath again she wiped off a tear of joy and shrugged apologetically at Chris.

"Don't tell Claire," he said, crossing his big arms in front of his chest. The image reminded her of a security guard in front of a nightclub or at the access to a Lady Gaga concert. She could imagine that Claire wouldn't approve her bigger brother's change of taste in music. After all, Chris had been the one who had efficiently introduced her to the world of hand-made eighties rock music.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she whispered breathlessly and leaned over the table between them. "I won't tell her, but I need to know how you ended up discovering Lady Gaga."

Chris laughed, with a shrug running through his shoulders.

"They play her songs at the gym," he said and Jill began to understand where he'd picked up that special taste of his. "It's energetic and I liked it, so I googled the lyrics and the artist behind them."

Jill deadpanned for a second when she heard that kind of vocabulary slip out of his mouth.

"You did what?" she asked quietly, the tremendous fear of the truth not lying in what he had done, but in what he might have found out while doing it.

"I googled it," he said with raised eyebrows. "That's what you call it when you search something on the Internet, isn't it? I looked it up on your computer when you were out for a run the other day."

Jill exhaled, carefully searching for the right words to say to discover what else he had been googling, but Chris was faster, quickly resuming his tale with a hint of pride in his words.

"Did you know that she chose her name from the Queen song _Radio Gaga_? I mean, that must be destiny. And she's the only decent 2000's artist I have discovered anyway. I got so absorbed by her that I even forgot to search our old colleagues on Facebook. I just couldn't find out if she used to be a dude."

He laughed and nearly killed her with anxiety. Jill was, in the meantime, hanging helplessly in her seat, as she nervously listened to Chris' words. Why had she not paid more attention to what her partner had been doing, running the needless risk of flushing Claire's plan to keep him away from the present time down the toilet? She would have to start using one of those hyper-secure passwords she used at work for her personal computer too.

"So you didn't get to search for them?" she eventually asked with care, at which Chris shrugged.

"As I said. Gaga happened. Didn't give me time to play the…" He bent over and whispered, "Paparazzi."

She held her breath in relief for a second before she burst into laughter anew.

"That's not funny," she howled as she leaned back in the seat, with the carefree spirit of the lucky. She would have to keep a better eye on Chris.

Chris mirrored her laughter and turned back to the window and the snowy landscape that was slowly swallowed by the dimness of the dusk.

"So, what can you tell me about Cedar Grove?" Jill asked curiously, propping her chin up, preparing for Chris' story. The brunet watched the shadows of the treetops they were passing by as a warm expression blossomed on his face.

"It's the place where we used to spend our summer holidays when we were kids."

He narrated the story with a hint of nostalgia that made Jill's heart pound harder, as she became aware that, after all the years she'd been his partner, she was finally about to know more about the most personal side of Chris Redfield. He had never spoken much about his parents, keeping the comments about his family short and shallow when it wasn't just Claire he was speaking of. When it came to Claire, he could talk for hours and hours, showing how proud he was of his little sister and how she had become a wonderful young lady thanks to his initial efforts. It was true, though, that this enthusiasm of his had vanished once their relationship had turned colder during the years Jill had been away, and the blonde had never really found out why exactly the siblings had given up on that close bond they'd had. She tilted her head to the side and watched him as he kept speaking.

"We have a cabin there. It's a great place to spend the holidays, surrounded by nature. Claire and I had a handful of friends among the villagers." With an expression of serenity, he sighed and leaned back in his seat. "I wonder if she told Mrs. Wilson that we're coming."

* * *

Yes, Claire had informed Mrs. Wilson about their arrival, and the old lady was already waiting for them with all the lights turned on and the fireplace lit when they walked up the path to the cabin at eight in the evening. When Chris pushed open the fence to the front yard, the voluminous older woman came storming out into the night with her arms widely spread.

"Chris!" She said when they hugged tightly, laughing happily at their reunion.

"Look at you, son," the woman shouted, too loudly to believe that her hearing was still intact.

"You haven't changed the slightest," she said and palpated his strong biceps before frowning slightly. "Okay, maybe you have gotten a bit bigger since I last saw you." She showed her upper row of porcelain teeth. "But it looks good on you. And so does age."

Chris laughed warmly, embracing the lady over and over again.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilson, you can't believe how good it feels to see another known face."

The woman nodded, letting her lips turn into a depressed smile.

"I know, kid, Claire mentioned you had amnesia. Well don't worry, I kept the cabin just the way you left it in 2005, so you will surely recognize some things inside." Leaving Chris frowning in confusion, Mrs. Wilson turned to Jill, who had been standing astonishedly next to them during their whole conversation and was now greeted with a wide smirk.

"And you must be Jill," she heard the woman say and nodded eagerly, her mouth mirroring the old lady's smile. "I've heard so many stories. Chris never stopped talking about you, of course, but he never mentioned just how beautiful you really are."

She squeezed Jill's cheek in a motherly manner and left the blonde blushing embarrassedly at her comments.

"One question, Mrs. Wilson," Chris said as he rubbed his chin. "You said you left everything like it was in 2005?"

The old lady gave him a shaky nod as she laughed.

"When you refurbished it, son," she said, making Chris yelp in surprise.

"We had it refurbished?"

And Mrs. Wilson snickered.

* * *

Chris stood in the living room, with his hands on his hips and his look turned upwards, inspecting the ceiling with a hint of pride while Jill watched him from the open concept kitchen as she placed a pan onto the range.

"I can't believe I did that with my own hands," the man howled in admiration and Jill laughed along with his charmingly impressed attitude.

"You heard Mrs. Wilson, Chris," the blonde said and laughed. "You have many talents."

Chris turned around with a spark of joy on his face.

"That's a huge compliment coming from her, trust me." He laughed and walked into the kitchen. "That lady knows about everything. Gardening, cooking, painting. She used to play the guitar when she was younger and she has five children." He shrugged warmly. "And I've never seen her in a bad mood."

Jill took a sip from her wine glass before grabbing a couple of onions and carrots.

"I can see that. She's such a lovely person," the blonde whispered. "It was very nice of her to stock the fridge for us. I don't know if we'd have found a place to do the groceries that late."

Chris, whistling into his beer bottle, shook his head with a sly grin plastered on his face. After a second he began to frown.

"Mrs. Wilson said I stopped coming after the refurbishment." He huffed out a laugh and grabbed a knife to help Jill with dinner. "Why would I refurbish a cabin and then not come back to enjoy it? I must have been a really weird guy before hitting my head."

Jill sucked in a sharp breath when a thought dawned on her and she began to wonder if Chris' lack of interest in the cabin had something to do with the tragic accident she'd suffered in 2006. Her eyes jumped to her partner, who had proceeded to chop bell peppers for their meal.

"Oh, well, you know," she explained, trying not to sound too startled. "You were very busy."

Chris accepted her explanation, whistling a melody that sounded suspiciously like another Lady Gaga song while Jill chuckled uneasily, turning back to the onions until Chris put his knife away.

"Is Claire not coming?"

The blonde lifted her head and turned to face him.

"That's a good question." She blinked around thoughtfully. "Is there a phone here?"

* * *

Her damn forgetfulness.

If anyone had caught her with her hands in her current doing, sitting on the floor in front of Jill's apartment door, cross-legged and with a cigarette hanging loosely between her lips, they would probably have called the police. The fact that she was using a set of lockpicks to open said door had probably something to do with it.

"Come on," she pleaded before taking a drag and blowing out the smoke without inhaling it as her right hand was angling the tool to the right to apply pressure to the lock.

She had grabbed all the needed stuff from Chris' place; phones, some more clothes and the big suitcase, which she'd use for Jill's belongings, too; but the keys to the blonde's apartment had been forgotten on the bedside table where she'd instructed her friend to leave them in the morning. Unwilling to take the hour-long ride back to Chris' place to get the keys, she'd decided to try that nice set of lockpicks Jill owned, but she had lost practice over time and it was harder than she remembered.

"Yes!"

Just when another pin was about to click, her phone rang in her pocket and startled her into letting go of the tools.

"Fuck!" She hissed and took a real, deep drag of her smoke before answering the call with a hiss.

"Mrs. Wilson? Oh, hey, Jill!"

Hastily nestling her phone between shoulder and ear, Claire went back to engaging her hands in the opening of the door.

"Yes, of course I am coming. Tomorrow. I am just… arriving at your apartment. No, I'm not breaking into it."

After another long drag, she tossed the cigarette into the can of beer that served as makeshift ashtray for her and laughed.

"Don't worry, Jill. I'll grab whatever you need. Yes, fine. Give me a minute and I can jot down everything."

When the lock eventually turned, Claire let out a deep sigh of relief, rolling to her knees as she pushed the door open. The phone, with Jill on the line, was still pressed to her ear.

"What? Oh, come on. You can be grateful I didn't just kick the door in, okay? Because I could have done that if I'd wanted to."

The door behind her swung closed and the redhead began to gather all the items Jill was asking for. Toothbrush, clothes, underwear and some cash were the things she requested for the time of unknown duration she and Chris would be spending in Cedar Grove. In the kitchen cabinet where the blonde had told her she'd find a package of Chris' favorite soy sauce, she also found a bottle of original tequila from Mexico—almost full. Claire blew out an impressed breath as she inspected the label.

"Not bad," she whispered to herself as she put the bottle back where it belonged. Jill didn't seem like the typical woman who got drunk with tequila, and all kinds of amusing theories about her finding began to build up in her head, like the scenario where Chris and Jill emptied the bottle and landed in bed together afterwards.

That was, currently, one of her favorite fantasies, given the lack of emotion and thrill her own sad existence brought along when it came to feelings. Admittedly, the two ex-partners had a history of untaken chances as long and full of grief as life itself, but Claire had always known about the immense crush her brother had on his beautiful partner, and she had naively believed that their resistance against a serious relationship had been Jill's doing. In the past weeks, though, the way they had interacted seemed to indicate that the cute blonde was as crazy for her brother as he was for her, so there had to be another reason for their relationship not to blossom.

If the cabin didn't make them hook up, she didn't know what would. She had always pushed Chris to invite his partner to Cedar Grove and spend some quality time with her alone, so the lovely place in the mountains would cast the spell of love on them and grant her many stubborn nephews and nieces, but Chris would always find an excuse not to ask her over. Nobody could know that, when he'd finish refurbishing the damn cabin in 2005, it would actually be too late for them to experience a holiday together, as they got a lead on Spencer in June 2006 and spent their whole summer in Europe, tracking the old man down to his Estate somewhere close to the Austrian-Hungrian border. That summer Jill had lost her life and Chris, the last spark of joy that had remained inside of him.

When Claire had just closed the zipper on the suitcase, she perceived a persistent knock on the door and jumped at the sound. It was too late in the evening for any normal human being to pay Jill a visit at her place, which only meant that it couldn't be a normal human being that was standing in front of her door and hitting their knuckles against the leaf as if they were chased by monsters. Claire frowned at the thought. She knew—she was entirely certain—that the annoying knocking came from an equally annoying person, but experience had shown her too often that tragedies seemed to happen when you least expected it, and so, she walked to the front door to see if someone might actually need her assistance. Before opening, she heard a familiar voice coming from the outside.

"Open the goddamn door, Redfield, I know you're in there."

Claire rolled her eyes in exasperation. One thing she had to admit; Piers Nivans' perseverance was admirable, and she started to wonder if it was one of those traits that made him so excellent in his job. Creaking her neck to prepare for the confrontation, she put her hand onto the knob and opened slowly—at least, that was her intention. Claire felt the door fly open as soon as she'd turned the lock and had to avoid being hit in the face by the swinging leaf as Piers Nivans and his whole one-hundred and fifty pounds plus whatever those heavy boots of his weighed stomped into the apartment, driven by wrath.

"Where the fuck are they?" he hissed at her as he eventually turned to face her, with her widely open eyes and that lovely, innocent pout on her face.

"Who?" She asked and shrugged her shoulders as she looked around. "I'm alone here."

The young man grunted.

"I see that," he replied with a sarcastic glance plastered on his face and Claire snickered amusedly. Admittedly, that angry face looked good on him. "Where did they go, Claire?"

Her eyebrow rose into a mischievously victorious expression as she huffed.

"Have you combed the whole city already?" She asked and saw more anger pop onto the young soldier's face.

He slammed his hand onto the dining table in an attempt to startle her. She wouldn't admit it easily, but she did flinch a bit at the sudden noise.

"Jill Valentine's car is parked in the parking garage of Chris' block," he said and made Claire's eyes twinkle in anger. "I assume they were at his place, as their stuff was there this morning, left behind as though they feared that someone would follow them."

She couldn't hold back her surprised gasp when he unveiled having his own access to Chris' place.

"I know you sent them to the station," he growled. "Where did they go?"

Claire cleared her throat, trying not to give away how much the young man's efforts impressed her.

"I told you they went to Raccoon City," she said and shrugged her shoulders, before Piers came a step closer and made her take a deep breath.

"By train? Without their phones and paying in cash?"

He shook his head. At Claire's lack of reaction to his truthful accusations, he took a deep breath and raked his fingers through his hair.

"You bitter old woman," he said in an offending, calm tone and Claire felt her teeth gnash together. "Do you even know what you are doing here? Do you understand what it means to leave the B.S.A.A. without the lead of their founding members and how exposed we currently are, with Alpha team dead and their Captain gone?" The volume increased with every word of his and Claire felt her blood boil in her veins. "You might not be aware of it but there are B.O.W.s to eradicate before Terra Save can come and put their bandaids on the wounds of the survivors."

That was enough, she thought and slammed the door shut, walking threateningly towards the soldier in front of her until she was face to face with him. Boring her finger into his chest, she shouted, "band aids? You can't be serious! I have fought bioterror as actively as you have and if I chose the path of peace and salvation it was because I knew that fighting the monsters doesn't help those who have already been victims."

And because her brother hadn't let her join the B.S.A.A., but that was a different story.

"I killed my first zombie with a ridiculously tiny pistol instead of those huge machine guns you get nowadays and I lost an important part of my youth to this shit. So never, ever, tell me again I don't know what you are facing, Lieutenant Nivans!"

Her voice had gotten as loud and angry as his had been before and Claire took a deep breath before her next sentence.

"And, yes, maybe I am bitter," she hissed with a hint of offence in her words. "But so was Chris. I mean old Chris, before he hit his head. He has spent; no, sacrificed; fifteen years of his life for the cause and he really deserves a break from all this!"

Piers' eyes narrowed as he heard her words and the soldier hissed in annoyance.

"You can't just decide that for him!"

And she laughed.

"Oh really?" She huffed out a laugh. "Well, I think I can. You missed your chance to save him, now it's my turn."

The words bubbled out before she could consider what she was saying, and Claire was punished with the sight of the healthy color draining from Piers' face as it turned into a grey mask of regret. He closed his eyes and turned his face away, his hand holding onto the table to allow him a smooth landing on the chair he was dropping into. The redhead rubbed her fingertips together in a shy motion. Her impulsiveness had, once more, made her lose control, letting those emotions she herself had admitted to be slightly exaggerated hurt other people—good people.

"I'm sorry," she whispered and rubbed her neck as she bit her lip. "That wasn't fair."

"No," the man mumbled as he turned his face back to her and sighed. "You're right. That's exactly what happened." Scratching his forehead with his index finger, he grunted. "I couldn't help him. I couldn't save anyone."

With an irritated roll of her eyes, she wondered when she had become that evil, pointing out that poor kid's failures when she herself had been the one to blame for others' misery more than once. How long had it taken her to get over the death of Steve Burnside, whom she had failed to save in 1998? Claire took a seat on the chair next to Piers and placed her hand onto his in a comforting touch, seeing how much the man regretted not having been faster or stronger to keep this tragedy from happening.

"Listen, Piers," she whispered as the young man turned his head to look at her. "You can't blame yourself for the bad things that happen out there. This is not your fault. Neither the death of your teammates nor Chris' amnesia. You survived. You're still standing and you're the one who lives to avenge them all."

Piers sighed once more at Claire's attempts to comfort him.

"That's the problem," he said with a grunt and let his eyes fall shut. "I'm the last one."

The statement caught Claire off guard and she began to frown at the young man.

"What do you mean?"

She saw how his jaw clenched and his tongue rolled over his teeth. Piers blew out a breath of effort, as if the truth he was about to say weighed so much that he feared he'd fly off once it was out.

"As long as Chris is away, I'm the one in charge," he eventually muttered and swallowed, with his anxious pupils inspecting the redhead's reaction. "And I'm not ready for it, Claire. I need your brother to come back."

Claire sucked in a breath, not believing his words, nor the fact that other people but her had those destructive thoughts, too. Her thumb began to move, caringly flicking over the back of the young soldier's hand.

"Piers, what are you talking about? Of course you are ready," she said with an encouraging expression on her face. "You have worked with Chris for… what? Two years?"

The man frowned hesitantly.

"Two and a half."

Claire nodded.

"And you know how he works, what he would do in every situation, and you have enough sense of right or wrong to know when to follow his methods or go another way," she exclaimed. "That's why he made you his second in command. He trusts you."

Piers snickered slightly.

"Maybe I was just the least pitiful option among the Alpha team soldiers," he suggested and made them both laugh with his comment.

Claire sighed warmly as she searched for the right words to give him; words that would give him hope and solace, too. She didn't want him to see her as an enemy, when they were fighting for the same cause and both looked up to the same man.

"I know this is a difficult situation, but you are perfectly prepared for this position, Piers," she said with a smile and he blew out a breath.

"Maybe."

She watched him closely. Such a young man shouldn't carry the weight of bioterror on his shoulders, she thought, thinking of Chris and his inexhaustible will to end the reign of Umbrella. Piers had certainly learned a lot from Chris, as every word of his, every roll of his eyes and every turn of his head was identical to her brother's moves. It gave her the certainty that the young man was just as a great leader as Chris, but the responsibilities brought along some dangers.

"You know?" She said with a determined squeeze to his hand. "During Chris' absence, you might be in charge of Alpha Team., but outside the B.S.A.A., _I'm_ the one who gives orders."

Piers looked at her with curious skepticism as she raised her hand to her head and clicked her fingers next to her temple.

"And I say that you should disconnect." She laughed depressedly. "I know that our job is constantly on our mind, but if you don't find a balance between the B.S.A.A. and your personal life, you will end up like Chris." The frown on her face became obvious. "Old Chris."

The concerned tone in her voice was almost heartwarming, he thought, and his stomach twitched painfully when the nights he'd used to spend with the rest of the Alpha Team soldiers came back to his memory. They had been a family and, so far, he hadn't even had the chance to mourn their deaths properly.

"And how do you do that?" He asked and mimicked Claire's finger clicking gesture from before. "How do you disconnect from all those images that are haunting you?"

Yes, she knew what he was talking about. It wasn't just the images; it was the smell of death and blood, the sound of the undead's sloppy footsteps when they dragged along a dark corridor, that hammering of your own heart in your chest and the fear that _they_ would hear it, too. Therapy could help you cope and talking about it always seemed to ease the pain of the memory, but it never erased those images.

"Besides hitting your head, you mean?" she asked as she coolly pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "To be honest, I only know one way."

With those words, she got up and walked into the kitchen.

* * *

When Jill returned from Mrs. Wilson's house, where she'd made the call to Claire, the cabin was filled with the most delicious smell of spiced vegetables and red wine and classical music was playing in the background. Jill quickly locked the door behind her and walked into the kitchen, where she found Chris carefully pouring the bolognese sauce onto a nest of spaghetti, so engrossed in his doing that he didn't notice her presence until she cleared her throat right next to him. When he turned to her, a bright smile blossomed on his lips.

"Hey," he breathed. "Did you speak to Claire? Any troubles finding Mrs. Wilson's house?"

"Everything fine." Jill smirked at her partner before her view drifted to the mess he had left in the kitchen, at which Chris turned around and laughed.

"I'll clean this up later," he said with a shrug and grabbed the two plates of spaghetti, gesturing for Jill to leave the kitchen and follow him into the dining area, where a beautifully set table was awaiting them.

"Wow," the blonde exhaled with a hint of admiration when she spotted the elegant cutlery and wine glasses, the cotton napkins which had been folded perfectly into the shape of a fan, and the dim shine of the candle-light. "What are we celebrating?"

Chris placed the plates onto the table and offered Jill a seat before he dropped into the other chair himself.

"Well, we are celebrating that we are here together," he said as he poured them some wine and pointed at his plate. "Our mom's secret spaghetti recipe. Enjoy!"

The blonde smirked shyly and took up the fork to sling the pasta around it with skilled turns. It looked and smelled really good.

"Wow," she praised when she had tasted the sauce. "This is fantastic!"

Chris snickered with a nod as he chewed.

"So," he mumbled with a grin when he'd swallowed. "Is this enough to convince you to go on a date with me?"

The fork dropped to her plate with a loud clunk and Jill turned her head up to face him.

"Isn't this something like a date?" she asked hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. "Candles, spaghetti. What would be different?"

Chris snickered.

"The previous intention, maybe? It's not a date if we didn't know it was a date," he said with a big grin plastered on his face as he soun the fork and took up more spaghetti. "I mean, even if we end up having a lot of passionate sex tonight."

She was lucky she hadn't taken up the fork again as it would have crashed into the plate once more when Chris shared his theory with her. She began to laugh instead, lowering her head and placing her hand onto her forehead to hide the tears of joy that threatened to escape. Chris laughed along with her.

"Oh my god," Jill howled. "When did you become such a charmer?"

Her partner kept grinning widely at her.

"Baby, I was born this way!"


	8. Chapter 8

She had lost control.

Wine and spaghetti, Gaga and candlelight, the snow outside and the cracking heat of the fire; a dangerous combination for two people who were stuck together in a beautiful little cabin in the mountains, but was that really all it took to make her give up on all the self-control she had worked into her inner schemes during the past eighteen, maybe twenty years? Jill looked around at the mess Chris and she had made after they had finished the second bottle of wine together, like the ring-shaped stains on the small table between the couch and the fireplace or the empty glass thrown onto the carpet next to it. The Redfield family’s photo album, open to the page of Chris’ first day of school, was another silent witness of a night that had ended with the two of them sleeping together on the couch, fully dressed and without brushing their teeth. She exhaled into her palm to torture herself with her own dense breath and hissed disgustedly, trying to remember when she had last slept on a couch even though having a more comfortable option available, like the beds with soft, clean sheets in the cozy bedrooms of the cabin.

Jill turned her head to Chris. Turned onto his back and with one leg thrown over the backrest, the man was snoring loudly, sleeping as tightly as a man who didn’t have to worry about bioterrorism could sleep, and the serenity he seemed to enjoy made her envy him a little. She herself barely slept, and she knew for certain that her old partner had always had troubles finding rest, too.

“You truly deserve a break,” she whispered, swinging her feet off the couch to get up and see what the kitchen offered for breakfast.

They had spent the night before talking about all kinds of subjects, about the Redfield family, about Claire and her difficult love interests, about themselves, about summers in Cedar Grove and winters in New York, about Forest Speyer and Albert Wesker, about that Christmas party where Chris and Richard Aiken had stolen the Christmas tree from the hall of the RPD and about the fact nobody had ever found out about it. They had discussed practically every possible subject available, but they hadn’t spoken about work. It was funny, actually, that the elusion of the B.S.A.A. wasn’t even a very difficult task. Chris himself seemed to show little to no interest in finding out more about bioterrorism, and she was somehow grateful for it.

Jill opened the cabinets of the kitchen in search of coffee. Mrs. Wilson had certainly thought of the ingredients for breakfast as well, and the blonde didn’t let the first empty cabinets discourage her.

“It’s the one on the right,” she heard a voice behind her and turned around in surprise.

Chris was propped against the wall, with his arms crossed and a sleepy but happy expression on his face. Jill returned the gesture and turned to the right, finding a bag of roasted ground coffee on the upper shelf.

“Thanks,” she said and shifted to tiptoes to reach for the package while Chris opened the fridge to take out eggs and bacon.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked with a grin when he turned around to search for a pan while Jill was engaged in feeding the coffee maker.

“I did,” she said with a giggle. “I passed out after the fourth glass I think.”

Chris snickered, shaking his head as he began to crack the eggs and pour them into a bowl.

“I always thought you were a hard drinker, Valentine,” he said and laughed. “I’m pretty sure the origins of my idea to steal the Christmas tree that night with Richard lie in my attempts to get  _ you  _ drunk enough to go home with me.”

Jill chuckled. Chris’ harmless flirting had turned impetuous and unashamed from the first cup of wine on and she cursed herself for still finding it somewhat charming.

“You idiot,” he hissed amusedly. “If you wanted to take me home, you should have asked me.”

He turned, deadpanned for a second, and asked, “Would you have said yes?”

That suggestive look on his face was priceless, Jill thought as she enjoyed his reaction to the fullest, bathing in his attention.

“No.”

Too bad she had to break his heart again.

He huffed out a laugh and turned back to the eggs, a little disappointed, maybe, but obviously not thinking about giving up. Jill laughed under her breath and resumed her interaction with the coffee maker, carefully pouring the water into the machine and putting the filter with the coffee in place. She had almost completed the task when Chris decided to boldly ruin her fucking morning.

“So, when are you taking me to work?”

The spoon clinked against the compartment for the coffee filter when he asked about her future intentions and her head spun around to face him. Did he sense that they were trying to keep him away from work? Did he know about their fatal intentions regarding his memory recovery? Did he also know that they were doing it for him? Eyebrows lifted, Jill took a slow breath and rolled her shoulders into a tense shrug.

“Oh,” she said as a nervous laugh burst out. “I guess when we get back to New York would be the right time, maybe.”

Chris seemed to find the answer plausible enough not to question it further. With a nod and a sly smirk on his face, he began to lay the bacon slices into a pan and turned the stove on, proceeding to add milk to the eggs and beat them, making Jill almost believe that the danger was over.

“Maybe you can tell me more about it during breakfast,” he suggested all of a sudden and caused her to sigh exasperatedly. “Tell me about what my job is exactly, who I work with, what the goals are. I mean, I will have to get back to work someday, won't I? And I want to be prepared."

Was there a way to prepare someone for all the horrors he was going to find when he'd get back to work? All the abominations they came across, all the treason they had been victims of, all the friends they had lost. She exhaled, hoping that Chris wouldn’t be as persistent and stubborn about the subject as he was about going on a date with her.

“Oh, we will have plenty of time once we’re there, trust me.”

She prayed Claire would arrive soon.

* * *

The light in the room was as bright and clear as only the midday sun could be on a winter's day like this, which meant that she had woken up much later than she had expected to. Invaded with a throbbing pain that reached all across her forehead and a funny feeling in her stomach, Claire grunted the sleepiness away and rolled onto her elbow, blinking at the unfamiliar surroundings from the new angle as she tried to reconstruct the happenings that had brought her into a bed that wasn’t hers. Once sure she wasn’t missing any detail, she sighed annoyedly and mentally prepared herself for what she would find when she’d turn around.

“Let him be gone. Let him be...” she hissed under her breath as her weight shifted to the left, allowing her to have a look at the sleeping body of Piers Nivans next to her, turned onto his stomach, with his back mutilated by the marks of —most probably— her fingernails. “Shit.”

Had it been one of those modern romantic comedy movies, it would now be time for the female main character to peak under the blanket to check if she was still wearing her panties, but Claire believed that was needless in their situation. She knew she was naked; she knew  _ he  _ was naked; and she knew all that because she remembered every embarrassing detail from the previous night; from how they had started making out at the dining table, to how they had shoved their hands into each other’s pants in the kitchen, to how they had ended up misusing Jill’s bed in so many shameful ways before falling asleep next to each other.

“Grow up, Claire.”

Because she was too old to get drunk on tequila and have sex with her brother’s second in command, wasn’t she? A man that was about twenty years younger than her and whom she had considered her opponent in the fight for Chris’ happiness until just a day before. At least Moira’s theory about the soldier’s sexual orientation had been confirmed, but Claire would have rather died before admitting that to her friend. The monumental headache was another well-deserved punishment for the mindless like her, she decided and began to focus on tracing a plan to get unseen to the kitchen, where she remembered dropping her underwear the night before. When she tugged on the covers, though, the man next to her began to move, stretching his arms and his toned, abused back as Claire pressed the sheets to her chest in an attempt to hide as much flesh as possible.

“Good morning,” Piers muttered with a kind smirk on his face as he began to look around.

Seeing her in that tense position gave him a good idea of how uncomfortable the redhead was about the happenings, and before he could let her pull the covers from him, he decided to make it easier for her and rolled to the edge of the mattress to collect his boxer briefs from the ground. Claire was hastily jumping out of the bed. With the effect of alcohol long passed and the sense of shame restored, she seemed rather desperate to hide herself from him.

It was funny, actually, because among all the lost thoughts and dizzy memories, there were things he would probably never be able to forget, with their roots dug deeply into the abyss of a blurry conscience; like the way she’d rolled his head in her palms when she’d kissed him, the shrill shriek she’d let out whenever he’d lowered his teeth into her calves and all the laughter. Oh, how would he ever be able to forget the fact that Claire Redfield laughed loudly when she climaxed?

He could almost  _ feel  _ the depth of every mark her fingernails had left all across his back and it was somehow relieving to know that he wouldn’t run into any of his late teammates in the locker room anymore, as they wouldn’t have hesitated to make all kinds of dumb comments about it. Like those they had made about their Captain’s hot sister and her  _ hungry ass  _ when she’d come to visit their unit back in 2011. Admittedly, the guys had been extremely talented in sexualizing even the most boring and frigid situations; driven by boredom most of the time; and it had been Piers’ job to cut their disgusting talks about profaning Claire’s body repeatedly.

Who would have guessed that it would be him, out of all members of Alpha team, who would actually get the chance to do so? The only difference between his colleagues’ nasty imaginations and reality was the morning after and the silence it brought along. He sighed at the thought and got up to pull his pants into place before reaching down for his shirt, with his back turned to Claire to give her some privacy.

“I'll be gone in a minute.”

There was an undertone in his voice that she couldn’t decipher; something between shame and disappointment; and it made Claire feel awkward to know that he was probably as embarrassed about the whole situation as she was.

“You can… I mean…” She hesitated, caught between her own interiorized politeness and her desire to lose sight of him as soon as possible. “You can have a shower, if you want to.”

He released a short laugh before he turned a little and shook his head at her.

“No need to prolong things,” he said and left Claire with a strange expression of shy relief. Maybe Chris’ predictions about his sister’s lack of love affairs had been a mere attempt at self-comfort and the redhead was actually seeing someone; someone she had just cheated on, in that case. Maybe all the rumors were true, and she was indeed one of Leon Kennedy’s conquests, perhaps even the favorite one. “And, I won’t tell anyone about this, of course.”

Claire eyed him, frozen fingers curling tightly into the knot of fabric that was holding the loose ends of the sheets around her body together. Yes, it seemed he was regretting it too; maybe even more than she was regretting it herself. Beyond the feeling of embarrassment she had to carry, she was also relieved about the fact that he wasn’t going to blurt out their misstep to Chris. It was the best for all of them if nobody ever found out that she was the cold-hearted elder lady who seduced innocent, lost, though very experienced young boys in her spare time.

“Thank you,” she whispered, gaining a shrug from Piers.

“No problem.”

She caught a twitch of his lip before he turned to the door. On his way out, though, he stopped, pointed at the dark suitcase on the floor and looked back at her.

"That's Chris' suitcase."

She knew what he was implying, still she was impressed by how well the soldier knew her brother and his belongings, up to a point that he recognized a simple black suitcase, like those half of the citizens of New York owned, as his Captain's. She shrugged.

"Maybe."

Piers snickered annoyedly and crossed his arms.

"It was at his place yesterday."

What else had she expected from someone who obviously owned a key to Chris’ apartment? Her tongue darted out, moistening the corner of her mouth as she considered what to say.

“So?”

That was it. Very eloquent. Claire barely had time to congratulate herself on the feigned lack of interest before Piers threw a snort at her.

“Where are they, Claire?”

There was that shadow on his face that said just how pissed he really was, and Claire instinctively took half of a step back as she exhaled. She should have come up with a better response, given the felt hundred years she had spent in Terra Save’s PR and communication department, but focusing more on being an irrational brat than a responsible adult, she just shrugged half-heartedly.

“That’s none of your business.”

His eyes narrowed, giving his look that dreadful touch of danger as he blew out air through his nose.

“Well I think it is!” he said and showed his clenched teeth as he raised his voice. “Where are they Claire?”

She recognized the fears in his voice, the frightened nervousness of the man who believed he couldn’t handle the interim position he had been given, and she felt pity for him. Hadn’t she herself experienced that kind of apprehension herself often enough?

“Listen, Piers,” she said in a low, calming voice as her right hand turned into a soothing gesture, which was simply ignored by the young soldier.

“I’m done listening, Claire,” he grunted, moving threateningly into her direction. “You can’t keep him away from this. It’s his life project.”

Claire rolled her eyes at the comment as her heart began to race. Was that all the drive people saw behind his actions? 

"It's his life project because he was forced into it," she yelled, her fingers already stiff from holding the knot. "It's his life project because he had no other choice. It's his life project because Albert Wesker hired him before any other Police Department could do so."

Chris had that sense of righteousness in him, no doubt; it was the reason why he'd joined the Air Force, or why he'd eventually become a member of the Raccoon City Police; but had he known what was waiting for him in the S.T.A.R.S. team and what it would cause to his sister, he wouldn't have taken the job in Raccoon City. Claire was absolutely sure. Raging, she began to stomp through the room, leaving Piers unexpectedly baffled.

"It's his life project because it stole any other interest from him."

Because of Umbrella and their legacy, Chris would never decide to settle down, get married and have children. And neither would Jill Valentine.

Piers sighed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, making him seem unwillingly defensive.

"I get your point, Claire," he said after rolling his jaw. "But there are things that need to be taken care of. It's not like I'm sending him back to the field right away."

He didn't get it. Was it really that hard to understand? Claire ran her palm over her forehead, sighing in exasperation. She was tired of explaining and fighting why her brother deserved a break; she was cold and hungover and she just wanted the man to fuck off and leave them all alone.

“Enough!” she hissed as her free hand reached for the young man’s collar, pulling him out of the bedroom and towards the front door.

He was following her without offering resistance, but she knew it was because he was uncomfortable around her or the fact that her grip was threatening to rip his shirt and not because he didn’t want to keep fighting.

“Claire,” he howled as she opened the door and pushed him into the corridor. “You’re irrational and childish. He’s going to remember someday and he will hate you for not telling him!”

Claire blew out a heavy breath through her nose, holding back the need to roll her eyes in response to a truth she was already more than aware about. Chris would hate her once he recovered his memory, and she would be happy to take the blame, it had been her idea after all, but even knowing that Chris wouldn’t forgive her impulsiveness, she still didn’t want to give up. Her brother deserved this break and, honestly, their relationship couldn’t get any worse than it had been before his accident.

“It will be worth it,” she hissed and the man shook his head.

“You can’t keep him away from this forever.”

A short, ridiculing grin ran over her lips as she huffed out a laugh. Before she could slam the door shut again, she hissed, “Watch me!”

Pressing her bare back against the door leaf, Claire tried to catch her agitated breath as her head began to throb harder. She just wanted the best for her brother, and if the B.S.A.A. couldn’t handle shit without him for a couple of months, they had a serious problem, but perhaps Piers was right. Was she really being irrational and childish? 

Her view drifted through the room, analyzing the chaos she and Piers had left behind the night before, the table wet with the content of knocked over tequila glasses and the remaining juice from sucked-out lemon slices, the ashtray overflowed with cigarette stubs, her shoes and jacket sadly abandoned on the floor, and she didn’t even want to see what the kitchen looked like. Maybe she wasn’t being childish, but she was really far from acting her age.

“I’ll have to clean up before leaving,” she told herself with a grunt and decided she’d also step by the office before driving to Cedar Grove.

If Chris wasn’t functional, she and Terra Save would be working twice as hard to compensate for his absence.

* * *

“Isn't this beautiful?” Chris asked as they walked together through the icy landscape, swinging his arm up to point at the view that unfolded in front of their eyes. “It’s so calm.”

The bright sunlight was reflected by the freshly fallen snow and it seemed like a million tiny diamonds covered the meadow between the woods and the frozen lake that lay peacefully in the area, barely touched by human hands. The refreshingly cold air against Jill's cheeks seemed to be the only thing that kept her mind away from the thoughts of regret that had begun to torment her that morning, when Chris had started asking about work. The B.S.A.A. had always been their common baby, the glue that had held them together. They had been almost friends when they’d met at S.T.A.R.S., could have been more, yes, but they were  _ partners _ now, nothing more than partners, and without the B.S.A.A., they had nothing in common anymore.

Jill sighed sadly. How had she let all that happen? She had just agreed to give Chris some time off, which he would have needed anyway to recover from his injury, and now she was on the run, stuck in the middle of nowhere, and without her phone, unreachable in case of an emergency or even an outbreak. What had happened to the professional and hard-working Jill Valentine, she wondered as her eyes followed Chris, who stomped over the meadow. He could stay in Cedar Grove and be happy as long as he wanted, but she would get back to New York as soon as Claire arrived that afternoon, leave the siblings to whatever fate they were going to meet there and save the B.S.A.A. from the slumpy hands of Max Johnson, whose designation as their Director was still unexplainable to her and the rest of employees. If the guys back home weren’t even able to free a stuck can with enough delicacy not to break the vending machine, how would they be able to lead the fight against bioterror?

"Hey Jill! Want to make snow angels?"

She inhaled annoyedly as her attention was swept back to the lovely meadow in Cedar Grove. Snow angels? Wasn't he a bit too old for that? Before she could scoff at him, she watched Chris throw himself backwards into the white field.

"I just hope I didn't land on a frozen cowpat," he exclaimed with a laugh, and a sheepish grin made its way onto his face. "Dude, I love snow."

_ I hate snow. _

The goosebumps that had so far spared her despite the cold suddenly blossomed all over her body as the words her partner had told her a night between Christmas and New Year's Eve 2011 rushed back into her mind. Work had kept them both in the office until late, and when it had started snowing, they had shared a hot cup of coffee and a look out of the window together. 

_ Can't tell you why. I just hate it. _

It was actually a common trait among B.S.A.A. soldiers, and Quint Cetcham always pointed out how much he despised cold zones as well. Seeing how joyfully Chris was moving his arms and legs, Jill understood that it had been the years after Raccoon and missions in Antarctica, Russia and some European mountain regions that had caused him to start hating something he’d used to love.

She wondered if he hated  _ her _ too.

"Come on, Jill, don't let me be the only idiot who makes snow angels," he demanded and Jill huffed as she rolled her eyes.

She could get back to New York after the weekend.

* * *

Terra Save had their head offices in one of the most technologically advanced buildings in the city, with a CCTV system that controlled every spot of the building and automatized accesses with electronic ID readers and full body scans that turned the cute receptionists they had working at the NGO in mere eye candy, but their parking garage was easily accessible to anyone who was able to pay for the ridiculously high fees. Piers hissed at the clock when he drove into the parking garage, hoping he wasn’t running late to catch the redhead who worked there. He hadn’t stopped thinking about what Claire had told him in the morning, and he wanted to speak to her again, hoping that he would find her more open to conversation now that she’d had some time to consider. He cut the engine and exhaled. 

He had driven from her apartment back to Jill's and then eventually decided he should check the Terra Save headquarters for the redhead, glad that he found her car parked in the garage there. Just as he was about to turn to the exit door, someone entered the garage through the pedestrian access from the building and Piers decided to stay in his car to keep lurking in the dark as he watched Claire walking through the zone. She was in dark, skintight pants, a white shirt and reddish-brown leather jacket, she wore her hair down and she looked amazing, he thought as his stare followed her through the darkness. She had a phone pressed to her ear and seemed to be agitated. She was also carrying Chris' suitcase in her free hand, and the soldier congratulated himself innerly on his splendid timing.

"Yes, I know what time it is," the redhead hissed as she walked towards her car. "There were things I needed to take care of."

Piers blinked astonishedly when the woman passed by her dark SUV.

"I'll be there in about…" She blew out a breath as she looked around and lifted the key, waiting for the distinctive sound of an unlocking car, until a cute, red Mini Cooper blinked somewhere in the corner. "In about four hours."

Piers frowned.

"Four hours?" He mumbled under his breath, wondering where the fuck she was going. It was obvious why she had chosen to take someone else's car, but the real question of  _ why _ lay in the choice of the person whom she had swapped vehicles with, as she looked misplaced in the Mini. After a moment of consideration and a quick glance at the fuel gauge of his car he turned the engine back on. He would have to be careful to avoid being seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The great irithyll herself gave me the idea to use Cedar Grove, but when I was looking for a lame name for a village for [Secrets](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18918100/chapters/44910547)


	9. Chapter 9

From an early age on, Jill had been used to dealing with impossible causes; like Dick Valentine, for instance, the wanted thief whose attempts to be a good father to little Jill had been as well-meaning as they had been lousy and unsuccessful, ending up with the girl being handed over to foster homes on several occasions. Delta Force had been another one of those impossible causes. Joining the military as soon as she’d had the chance to, Jill and her skills had proven themselves worthy of the strict requirements the testosterone-loaded unit had been asking for, but she had never made it to the field with them. The job in the elite-unit S.T.A.R.S. had seemed a good alternative to being professionally stuck, the colleagues had turned out to be nice and Raccoon City was a peaceful place to live; at least, before it turned out to be another impossible cause. Even so, Jill had survived, she had run and fought, been infected and cured, and since escaping Raccoon City seconds before the missile strike, she had never stopped fighting bioterrorism in the U.S. and around the world. Yes, she was used to dealing with all kinds of impossible causes.

She wasn’t ready to deal with this, though.

“This is too much food, Chris,” she pointed out between one spoonful of yogurt and the next one. “Nobody’s going to eat all this.”

She had sensed, somehow, that Chris’ kind offer to cook dinner that evening would end in a major disaster. Maybe she shouldn’t have praised the decent spaghetti bolognese he had prepared the night before as the most delicious pasta dish she’d ever tasted, as it seemed to have awoken the megalomaniac cook in the man, pushing him to decide that grilling in February was the best idea any human being had ever had. Not wanting to argue about it, she had offered her help, being dismissed as _ the guest _ in their house and damned to watch while Chris took care of everything. 

“Please. This is barely an appetizer for Claire and me. Also,” he replied with a grin as he flexed his arms, making the sleeves of his shirt stretch _ audibly _around his muscles. “These babies need protein.”

Cans and jars rolled over the counter and Jill needed to stop a couple of them from dropping to the ground before she could continue shoveling yogurt into her mouth while flicking through a nineties lifestyle-and-fashion magazine. Chris had already dashed back into the pantry, busy finding more stuff to serve the huge amount of meat with.

“Holy shit! Instant potatoes!” A scream of excitement made the blonde look up from her reading. “Haven't had those since I moved to Raccoon!”

Jill slid her tongue over her upper teeth to clean the remains of yogurt from them. The last time _ old _Chris had complained about the instant mashed potatoes they served in the B.S.A.A. cafeteria were meant to poison the bodies of the employees with their low nutritional value was still very present in her memory, and her mind relentlessly slipped back to the first night she and Chris had spent at his apartment after the mansion incident to start their investigation on Umbrella, when they’d shared a bag of instant soup and a handful of leftover chicken wings. And it had been enough.

“Amazing, Jill! There’s Ramen noodles!” He actually seemed to toy with the thought of adding them to the meal. “Hmmm, maybe you’re right. This is enough food.”

A smile grew across her lips as she turned to the window, where the falling snow began to cling to the glass, trying to paint the peaceful picture of the frozen landscape outside. She could have a cup of coffee and enjoy the view while Chris cooked dinner, maybe he would join her every now and then, and it would be like back in early 1998, when they'd both used to volunteer for the more complicated cases, those that would keep them working together most of the nights, far away from their lonely apartments. The first thing they'd do whenever they’d stay alone in the S.T.A.R.S. office was to have coffee together and chat about their daily struggles without feeling guilty for every second they took off.

Those times when one misstep would cost one, maybe two lives, instead of thousands.

Not that one or two lives weren’t worth mourning.

“Jill! Where’s the charcoal?”

Blueish eyes turned to the kitchen, amused by Chris’ belief that she would know better where to find things in _ his _cabin than he himself. Before she could reply, though, he informed her about a successful find and she got up to open the door, where someone had just started knocking.

“Claire! Wow, what happened to you? You look like shit.” Her greeting was responded with a mere grunt before the redhead handed her the suitcase she was carrying. “Thank god, you brought clean underwear!”

Claire chuckled darkly.

"Been a long night," she exclaimed with clattering teeth, already holding a cigarette between her shaking lips. "Fuck, it's freezing outside."

A sarcastic laugh escaped Jill's lips when she closed the door behind her friend and her hand waved at Chris in the kitchen.

"Really? You’ll be pleased to hear that your brother wants to have a barbecue outside."

After an unimpressed twitch of her eye, Claire placed one hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side.

"Will there be steaks?" After laughing shortly, she nodded at her own comment and walked into the cabin, leaving the blonde standing perplexedly in the corridor. "If there will be steaks, I'm in. There must be blankets somewhere in the bedroom closets."

Jill rolled her eyes anew at the carefree attitude the redhead showed, but she soon found herself smiling. This was the life Chris had wanted and deserved, wasn’t it? Barbecues and beer whenever he felt like it, something like family dinners without fearing that something might interrupt their encounters and the most normal talk between two siblings who fought over who was better at grilling. A sigh of longing made its way out of Jill’s mouth when she felt herself comfortably embracing that guiltless feeling of family for the first time in her life.

Another knock on the door assaulted her daydreaming and every inch of peacefulness was blown away when she opened and found her feeling of guilt in the form of Piers Nivans standing on the front porch.

“Fu…”

“Agent Valentine,” the young man slammed a hand against the door as though he feared she would try to close it again. “Please, I just want to speak to him.”

Through the gap of the open door, Jill could clearly see the defensive gesture the young soldier was showing, and before the first impulse could take over and make her slam the door shut as hard as she could, she reconsidered, sighed again, and agreed to let him in.

“What the fuck is _ he _doing here?” Claire had come back storming from the bedroom when she’d heard the knock on the door. Jill was surprised, though, to see that she’d had time to grab at least one of the blankets she’d said she was getting.

“It’s obvious that he followed you, dear,” the blonde replied with a smug smirk and gained herself a grunt from the redhead.

“I come in peace.” Piers nodded reassuringly as he pulled out a picture that had once been very familiar to a younger version of Jill.

“What…?” She gasped in excitement as her eyes turned back to Piers. “Where…?”

The young man seemed to grow with pride when he handed her the photograph of the two S.T.A.R.S. teams, taken someday in the spring of 1998, before Rebecca had joined Bravo team, before the Mansion Incident, and before they’d learned that the limits of _ possible _lay much further out than imagined. Jill’s hands curled tightly around the wooden frame as she stared at the picture. There was Richard Aiken, the young man who had once saved her from being devoured by that snake-thing, offering himself as sacrifice in her stead; and Joseph, whose death had been the one she’d witnessed the closest; Forest, whose zombified corpse she had encountered on some balcony, turned to food for the crows, and Wesker; normal, human, Albert Wesker, on the day he’d made what was probably his only genuine joke. All S.T.A.R.S. members had been given a copy of that photograph, but she had believed that all of them had been destroyed in Raccoon City; like hers, which she hadn’t hesitated to leave behind after already mutilating it by cutting their Captain out and replacing him with the picture of a G.I.Joe action figure.

“The Captain had this in the drawer of his office,” Piers explained in a low voice, as though he feared the revelation could startle the blonde. It seemed like one copy had made it out of Raccoon undamaged. Jill licked her lips and smiled.

“He will love to see this, Piers,” she whispered, offering her thankful smile as a sign of peace before she turned to Claire. “Won’t he?”

Before Claire could complete the roll of her eyes with words, heavy footsteps approached and the beary voice of Chris Redfield echoed through the cabin.

“Piers! What a surprise,” he said laughing as an arm slid over Claire’s shoulder and pulled her into his embrace. “Did you two come together?”

Although Claire was quick in responding with an indignant “No!”, Piers couldn’t stop himself from snickering at the double meaning the innocent question was loaded with. After pretending to clear his throat to hide his reaction, he completed Claire’s answer.

“No,” he repeated and pointed at the picture in Jill’s hands. “I had just forgotten to give her this for you, so I drove after her.”

A pair of eyebrows shot up as Chris let out an impressed laugh.

“The whole way from New York City?” Incredulous shoulders were shrugged when he whistled in admiration. “That’s like, what? Five hours?”

“Three and a half, at Claire’s speed.”

Now that was actually impressive. He himself was a confessed adrenaline junkie, owner of a sports car and a Ducati and afraid of nothing that had at least two wheels and an engine, but the way the younger Redfield had sped through the narrow curves the mountains drew towards the sleepy Cedar Grove had almost made his blood freeze. If the redhead was just half as hungover as he was after their nightly drinking, he had no doubt where the belief that she was the _ harder Redfield _ came from.

“Shut the fuck up.” Claire hissed through her teeth and gave her brother a wide grin. “He’s exaggerating.”

“Sure he is,” the older Redfield muttered as his chiding glance moved from his sister back to the frame Jill was holding. “Hey! That’s the picture of us all!”

Jill, who had been too absorbed by the photo to pay real attention to the conversation, watched Chris’ reaction as he took the frame from her hands.

“Do you remember that day as well as I do?” he said with a laugh and looked at her. “We had so much fun at work.”

How long had it been since he’d last put the words _ fun _ and _ work _in the same sentence? Jill felt her attention magically drawn to her old friend as he began to laugh at the picture, “did I tell you that I once caught Frost showering with that bandana on?” He shook his head. “I don’t even want to know what he was hiding underneath that thing.”

It broke her heart to know that he would never find out.

“I guess we should get the steaks ready,” Jill exclaimed after sighing sadly. “Piers, you staying for dinner?”

The young soldier’s hesitation gave Chris the chance to respond.

“Of course he’s staying! He’s staying the night!” And with a cheerful move, he grabbed Piers’ shoulder and pulled him after him towards the back porch. “You can help me with the steaks.”

Jill and Claire, staying behind, exchanged a couple of upset glances before the older woman elbowed the redhead in the side.

“Try to relax,” she suggested. “If there’s anything this situation has taught us it’s to enjoy the little time we have away from all this shit.”

With her head lowered, Claire huffed out a defeated laugh.

“I can’t.”

* * *

“And then Airhart pointed out that he was holding the map upside down, and it took Johnson literally seven seconds to react and say that he was just testing if we were paying attention.”

Claire’s initial concerns about how Piers’ presence would affect the good mood during dinner had soon been eased, as the young man hadn’t only kept his mouth shut about the real meaning and consequences of bioterrorism, he’d also neatly avoided the subject whenever Chris seemed to push towards it, keeping the stories about work spinning agilely around only one subject.

“Dude, Johnson’s such a...” the young man blurted out as he sat his beer back down before his gaze jumped shyly to Jill. “I mean…”

The blonde laughed out loudly.

“Say it, Nivans. He’s a douchebag.”

The four had taken seats around the round wooden table on the covered back porch, the women on one side, the men on the other, Chris and Claire with their backs turned to the door and the grill next to it. It was a freezing night, but the thick blankets they were all covered in plus the heat of the embers on the grill and the four or five bottles of beer each of them had had, neither of them was really feeling cold. It had stopped snowing and the cloudy curtain on the firmament had opened to show off the brightest of stars.

“Sounds like that guy deserves some Redfield treatment.”

Not that there was any attention left for the night sky when they were busy complaining about Max Johnson. Chris cracked his knuckles theatrically while Claire nodded approvingly, lighting a cigarette.

“Oh, no, Chris,” Jill howled in a desperately whining voice. “He’s not Irons.”

“Do I want to know what the Redfield treatment is?” Piers asked curiously and made Claire snicker around her smoke. Jill rolled her eyes.

“Chris once punched the Raccoon City Police Chief in the face.” She glanced at Piers’ astonished face as he turned to the older man.

“Captain?”

After taking a deep breath, Chris shrugged as though punching Irons had been the best idea he’d ever had.

“He fairly deserved it. Even Wesker congratulated me…” He cleared his throat and grabbed the cigarette his sister offered him.

“Before suspending you for a month,” Jill grunted, poking her fork into the dried up clump of instant mashed potatoes on her plate. “And you were lucky that was all the consequences the story had for you.”

Chris didn’t reply, only showing a bratty smirk as he stared at her, so intensely that the blonde felt uncomfortably observed by her old partner. She eventually dropped the fork and got up.

“I’m gonna get some more beer,” she announced and had almost reached the door when Chris jumped after her.

“I’m coming with you,” he said and pushed himself after the blonde into the cabin. “You mad?”

Piers’ gaze followed them until they slid the glass door shut and their words were out of his reach.

“Wow, they’re…” he muttered, more to himself than to the redhead who had stayed with him, puffing her smoke in awkward silence. “He’s… very different.”

Pretending to be watching the stars, Claire just hummed silently, making it obvious that Piers couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t know yet.

“He’s happy,” she replied and tossed the stub into the ashtray, her nerves pushing her to grab a new one right away. “It’s hard to see what his life could have been like without Umbrella.”

His hands were anxiously pulling on the label of the beer bottle, barely able to peel off a larger piece of it. Dinner had gone well. He had known it would be easy to keep the two women calm if he just avoided bringing up Chris’ memory, but this wasn't one of those issues that would solve themselves if they were just ignored for long enough, and the more he thought about it the harder he had to fight off his wish to simply yell at Chris who he really was. He had come with good intentions, with that picture of S.T.A.R.S. meant to be a genuine peace offer, but Jill and especially Claire seemed to misread his passivity and believe he was now supporting their evil plan.

“I know you want the best for him, Claire,” Piers said as he gave up on freeing the bottle from the label and sat the glass back onto the table. “But you have to tell him. What will happen in case of an outbreak? You know what we are facing all the time, you must know that...” He sighed sadly. “Things would be easier if we had him with us. Or if we had Valentine with us.”

Claire eyed him, trying hard to fight down the anxiety that rushed electrifyingly through her veins and made her blood boil in anger. A decided thumb tapped the cigarette butt to flick the ash off before she pulled the smoke to her mouth again.

“Piers.” She clicked her tongue right before the drag. “I understand that their presence is important to the B.S.A.A., but your team doesn’t depend on them alone.”

The soldier blew out a breath as he watched her in disbelief. It seemed like good intentions weren’t getting him further.

“Listen…”

“But I’m also aware that we have to tell him,” she said and forced a sad smirk. “I just want this to last a little longer, y’know? It’s just that, because there are so many simple things that weren’t possible with Chris because he was always working, and when he wasn’t, he wasn’t in the mood. This cabin? We hadn’t been here in years, Piers. Years!” After sighing her irritation away, Claire took the last drag of the smoke before adding, “I wanted him to be happy again, for a while.”

After tossing the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray, Claire laughed a little and grabbed her bottle again, taking a long sip from the drink that had stopped sparkling hours before. Piers sighed, shaking his head in defeat.

“Where’s the point in that? It’s just an illusion,” he said. “You will have to tell him anyway so why not make it quick?”

Claire couldn’t help shrugging at the comment.

“Is that really a reason?” she asked with a twitch of an eye, side glancing back at the soldier. “Only because I know it’s temporary? People travel, they go on trips, they celebrate events, Christmas, Spring Break. All of this wouldn’t exist if they considered only permanent things are worth any effort.”

The redhead’s improper reasoning made Piers’ teeth gnash together in annoyance. He blew out a breath and frowned at the woman on the opposite side of the table.

“That’s not quite the same, don’t you think? People know before they start that those things will pass and be over, and Chris doesn’t.”

“Maybe.”

No, Chris wasn’t aware, but she was. She and Jill knew that these days with him would be over someday, maybe soon, and that they better make the best of their time together. Yes, it was selfish, especially when there were people in the B.S.A.A. that were forced to do a job they didn’t feel prepared for. Claire sighed again as her look drove to the S.T.A.R.S. picture they had left standing on the table during dinner, making Jill look awkwardly uncomfortable. Luckily, Chris hadn’t acknowledged her behavior.

“Piers, do you know why Chris kept that picture?”

More irritated than comforted by the talk with Claire, Piers’ fingers had been toying with the fork on his plate, but the sudden question drew all of his attention back to the redhead and her possible theory.

“Because he likes to remember old times?” He shrugged.

Claire sighed warmly and took up the frame.

“That too, but I think that he uses it as inspiration,” she said and moistened her lips, the cold air around them soon laying a freezing layer onto them. “You know, they had their differences and Chris constantly complained about his methods, but he really respected Wesker.” She took a sip from the bottle before resuming her tale. “I think that before the Mansion Incident and his betrayal, Chris saw a great captain in him. Maybe you two are not so different, Piers. Maybe he was always just as scared as you are now, believing that he’s not prepared to lead a unit like yours and that the responsibility is too much for him.”

When her eyes returned to the soldier, he was staring seriously back at her, obviously considering her words.

“I don’t know.”

The empty bottle was returned to the table before her cold hands reached for the pack of cigarettes once more.

“I meant what I told you. You are more than qualified for any position in Alpha Team, and if Chris had access to his memory, he’d confirm it.” She fished out the last smoke. “I will tell him, I promise, and you will have him back soon. But don’t doubt yourself. You’re too good.”

Piers replied with another hesitant shrug, letting a minute of silence breathe between them before he peeked back at the redhead, who was fondling the lighter and paying little attention to him. Her efforts to talk some self-confidence into him were admirable, but she was rather unsuccessful in her task. It wasn’t her fault. He wouldn’t have believed it even if it’d come from the Captain himself, and the only thing she had achieved with her plan to forget was another thing they’d both seemed to avoid mentioning.

“You know,” he said bravely, considering that it was time they did speak about it. “I had a great time last night. And I don’t refer only to the last part.”

Once the cigarette was lit, Claire lowered her head, exhaling the whitish smoke as she was engulfed by the nervous dance her hands were performing around the bottle. There it was, the inevitable, unpleasant talk afterwards. She’d rather have let the subject rest in peace and never be reminded of it again, but she wouldn’t allow Piers to be more reasonable about it than she was, and after chiding herself for her own immaturity long enough, it was time to be a responsible adult and face the consequences of her own alcohol-fueled mistakes.

“Yeah.” She huffed shyly and eventually smiled at him. “Me too.”

Because it had been good, hadn’t it? It had been exciting, hot and sweaty, a little painful and mildly forbidden, but above all, it had felt good to be touched again, to be kissed and admired and explored again after such a long period of physical and emotional drought. Her previous mistake —named Neil Fisher— had left her so vulnerable that she’d decided to shut every possible danger out and increase caution regarding others. She had recovered from Neil’s betrayal, bleeding out all the pain she had brought home from Sejm Island, well aware that she got attached very easily —a consequence of the feeling of abandonment the death of their parents had brought along, as her therapist believed— but that nobody would break her heart if they didn’t get the chance to hold it. 

“I also wanted to…” Piers cleared his throat and interrupted her train of thought. “I don’t want you to think that I usually behave like that and...”

“You made an exception for me?” Her lip twitched amusedly as she asked him about the reasons that had driven him, wondering what bush he was really beating around. “That’s too nice.”

Piers laughed, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, I guess I did.” Rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm himself up, he found his palms humid with a fresh layer of sweat, and his eyes jumped back to Claire. “The point is that I tend to get a little…" He cleared his throat. “...Rough when I drink and...”

With wide-open eyes, Claire began to nod.

“You mean when you strangled me, pulled my hair and told me to say that I’d never been fucked like that?”

The color drained instantly from his face, his look drifting fearfully towards the glass door to check if Chris was anywhere nearby as he seemed to gasp for air like a stranded fish, and the mere gesture made Claire laugh.

“Relax, they can’t hear us,” she said with a dark laugh and took another drag, while Piers anxiously raked his fingers through his hair.

“And that’s why I don’t drink.” He blew out a breath. “I’m very sorry.”

Claire kept laughing, delighted by the absurd conversation and admitting to herself how adorable the young man’s reaction seemed to her, as Piers was genuinely sorry for, what? Not making sweet love to her? Her laughter turned even louder.

“Don’t be,” she replied with a wink, wondering too late if the somewhat innocent gesture had been inappropriate. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, and I don’t really remember the last time before that so, technically, your petition can be considered legitimate.”

They chuckled, both a little uncomfortably, both a little relieved.

“Thank god. I wouldn’t have wanted that to stand between us,” Piers added when he’d caught his breath again.

Claire nodded.

“I know. Me neither.”

* * *

When Jill walked into the kitchen the next morning, she found Claire leaned against the counter, bent over the same magazine she herself had been reading the previous day and holding a mug of steaming coffee, the signature cigarette dangling between her lips.

“Morning.” She greeted and began searching the cabinets for another mug.

“Good morning,” the redhead replied as she flipped the magazine shut and pushed it away. “Ew, seriously, who wore animal prints? The nineties were a weird epoch.”

The B.S.A.A. agent decided not to argue about fashion with someone who’d been wearing pink booty shorts and vest with knee-high biker boots the first time they’d met, and just hummed amusedly as she poured herself some coffee.

“I’ve seen the couch is empty,” she said to change subjects. “I assume Piers is up already.”

After a long drag of smoke and a pleased sigh, Claire nodded at Jill’s statement.

“So is Chris. They said something about an early run, or so.” She shrugged, gesturing to the door. “All I heard was _ torture in the snow _.”

“Wow!” Jill huffed in awe. “And you left them alone?”

Claire put her mug down and crossed her arms over her midsection, accommodating herself against the counter.

“I don’t think he will tell him.” A remorseful grimace crawled onto her face when she exhaled sharply. The following roll of her eyes was for herself and her own attitude rather than for the soldier’s persistence. “I think he believes now in our own capacity to tell him the truth.”

Jill’s head lowered into a gesture of comprehension, suppressing the weak melancholy that involved her.

“You mean, as long as we tell him soon?”

Claire didn’t look much happier than she felt herself when she passed the cigarette from one shaking hand to the other.

“Yes.”

Jill’s look drove to the window. The morning sun was laying down its veil of light onto the hard snow that had fallen the previous day and it turned the mountain landscape into a sea of diamonds. It seemed like the right place to tell a man that his life was a well of misery and war, but in which he himself had nothing of his own to fight for.

“Let _ me _tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it’s been two months since the last update. I apologize for the delay, and I guarantee that this story isn’t dead; pretty much the opposite. Everything is planned and the thought of it brightens up every one of my days and I’m anxious to show you where it will go, but I’ve been struggling with the words and with organizing my ideas, not only for A3C, but also for my other WIPs.
> 
> Many thanks to my beta! Whenever you come across a good line in this chapter, keep in mind that if the merit isn't his, then the line itself is. Hah!
> 
> A big thank you to all the readers and commenters of this crazy little story. This chapter seems to be boring and empty, but it’s the start of the needed change. Next time we’ll see how Chris reacts when Jill tells him the truth… or part of it…
> 
> Or nothing of it…?
> 
> Thank you all!
> 
> Xaori loves you!


	10. Chapter 10

“I don’t know,” Claire stomped through the room, pulling the cigarette to her mouth with frantic moves to puff without really inhaling the smoke. “What are you going to tell him anyway?”

Jill rolled her eyes. Her friend behaved like a drug addict on withdrawal and if anyone had believed the redhead’s conduct in the previous weeks had been exaggerated, now it was time for them to consider she had simply gone crazy. 

“I don’t know yet, but it’s time he learns about his past. I don’t want him to feel cornered or stressed, so I think only one of us should tell him.” The blonde put her mug down and took up the picture of the S.T.A.R.S. units instead. “Please, Claire, let me be the one. I was there when we walked into that mansion for the first time, when all this started for us — for _ him _. We fought so often shoulder to shoulder, we created the B.S.A.A. together, and...” 

Claire had stopped walking around like a madwoman but without dropping the stick of nicotine between her fingers, blowing out the smoke along with a slightly offended breath. The truth was unkind but undeniable, and it pained to admit that Jill was right. Sure, she herself had known Chris much longer than the blonde, but her experience fighting bioterrorism with him was limited to their brief meeting in Antarctica, and they hadn't really fought the same enemies back then. After another hiss and with a heavy heart, the redhead began to nod.

“Fine. So, how do you want to do it?” Dropping into the next best chair, she began to gesture animatedly with her words. “When you’re back in New York?”

Jill looked around as she considered.

“I think it should be here,” she said with a nod. “On neutral ground.”

Claire rolled her jaw into a sulk, understanding that Jill wanted her to leave them alone, which made her feel oddly out of place in the cabin that held part of her past and childhood. There was hardly a way to deny that the blonde was right, though, and that Chris shared more memories regarding bioterror with his partner than he did with any other person in the world.

“Okay.”

The door behind her opened and Chris and Piers returned from their morning workout in the snow. Jill couldn’t help chuckling at the huge dark blue sweater that belonged to Chris and that hung like a parachute’s canopy around Piers’ shoulders, clear evidence of the size difference between the two. Chris pulled off the sweaty, grey hoodie and tossed it over the backrest of the closest chair.

“Morning!” He greeted cheerfully and turned back to Piers, pointing towards the kitchen. “There’s water and juice in the fridge, I think. Grab whatever you want.”

“There are leftover steaks, too!” Jill shouted from her seat at the dining table and laughed. “I'm sure you want to have them for breakfast.”

Chris looked like he was about to reply in the natural, jovial attitude she had grown so used to, but the arms of Claire slinging around his neck and pulling him closer drew his attention to his red-haired sister.

“Oh, god, that’s not a good idea!” He laughed awkwardly, carefully patting the shoulder of the woman who bravely ignored any moist stains on him. She just hugged him tightly. “Is everything okay?”

Claire quickly hummed in response and eventually pulled back.

“I’m going to leave today,” she whispered. “You stay here with Jill.”

The big man’s eyes widened as he nodded, and so did his smile. Piers leaned out of the kitchen, one glass of water in his hand, and launched the redhead a surprised look to which she responded with a sad, comprehensive nod.

“You two better have a shower,” she said. “Piers and I are leaving after breakfast.”

* * *

After stuffing Claire’s handbag with all kinds of food they were certain Chris and Jill wouldn’t get to eat in what remained of the weekend, the younger people prepared to leave and give the two ex-S.T.A.R.S. members some privacy to go through Chris’ lost time together.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” Claire hadn’t stopped smoking all morning long, even complimenting her eggs and toast with three cigarettes in a row.

“There’s indeed something you can do for me,” the blonde said and held her open palm under her friend’s nose. “Your car keys. I’m not taking the train back to New York. I’m sure Piers will be glad to give you a ride.”

After one second of bewilderment, and a brief glance at Piers, who was casually straddling the backrest of the couch, Claire shied away and shook her head eagerly.

“I'm so sorry." With a triumphant smirk, she leaned against the nearest wall. “I came in Lindsay's car and I have to give it back to her this afternoon.”

“Why would you…?” Jill hissed in annoyance. “Oh, fuck, whatever…”

The silence spread densely in the room, Piers realized as he caught sight of Valentine's disappointed gesture, and he sensed that he would soon see all the attention drawn to himself and the only remaining option for Jill and Chris to get home by car. It was one of those moments when he wished to be informed about an outbreak, or a death case in his family, or any other tragedy that would inevitably lead to the necessity of driving back to New York in his own vehicle. Piers loved his car more than he was willing to admit, and the thought of passing the steering wheel to someone else— even if it was Jill Valentine or his Captain himself— gave him the strange shudders of a parent that allowed their child to stay out late for the first time. He could make up an appointment or a place to stop by before, but it wouldn’t sound convincing after the spontaneous trip to Cedar Grove, and his Captain already knew he owned a bike, which would also grant him the needed freedom and mobility once he was back in the city. He could either remain silent and hope nobody would ask him for the keys of his ride, or he could proactively make himself useful.

“Uhm, you can take mine,” he said eventually, cursing himself for his good will as his eyes drove to the redhead in the corner. “If Claire can give me a ride back home…”

He could have thought of worse ways to end that trip; unlike Claire, who had silently wished for a different outcome. She nodded awkwardly, though.

“Sure.”

Piers handed Jill the keys to his Audi with a grunt while the siblings began to load the minuscule trunk of the Mini.

“Thanks, Nivans,” the blonde breathed thankfully, patting the young man’s shoulder with gratitude and getting another grunt in response. 

“T’sokay.”

“Piers?” Jill asked as her eyes drove to Claire, who was arguing loudly with Chris about how carelessly he was placing a box full of cans into the trunk. “Take care of Claire, please. Don’t let her drive if you feel she’s too agitated.”

Her words made him dedicate more attention to Claire’s attitude, and he spotted the redhead punching her brother’s shoulder right before throwing both of her arms around him. It was obvious that she was afraid of the reaction Chris could show once he found out about their white lie and what the truth could cause to their relationship. Talking her out of driving would be a hard task, but Piers was willing to try — for his own safety, too.

“No problem.”

Just as the soldier was about to turn away, Jill called him back once more.

“Nivans.” After waiting for him to look back at her, she added, “You’re doing a great job, you know? There’s no need to feel discouraged. Johnson told me how happy he is with your work at the front of Alpha Team.”

A sarcastic expression of disbelief crawled onto Piers’ face and caused his left eyebrow to jump up. Claire could have really kept her fucking mouth shut instead of blurting out what he had told her in private.

“Really?” he asked with a laugh. “And when did he tell you that, huh? Just a couple of days ago he mentioned he hadn’t spoken to you in weeks.”

The blonde giggled, shyly shrugging one shoulder at him.

“Maybe we have a special mental connection.”

They shared a laugh. Johnson’s weird habit of staring concentratedly at the wall sometimes had more than once been laughed at by the B.S.A.A. employees, as it seemed like he was trying to hypnotize the brickstone. 

“Thank you.”

Piers walked to the car, scrutinizing the little room he’d have to contort his legs into before finally climbing into the tiny seats like the brave man he was. Claire gave her brother one last hug.

“I love you,” she said with the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “Don’t forget that, okay?”

The baffled older Redfield just embraced his sister once more, rubbing over her red ponytail.

“I won’t. I love you too.”

She eventually got into the car, fastened the seatbelt and turned the key. After another wave to her brother and Jill, she and Piers drove away, leaving the two partners alone in the white paradise that was Cedar Grove. Chris stood guard until the Mini disappeared around the next corner, and then turned to Jill, who was waiting for him on the veranda.

“Let me guess,” he said with a grin. “You are going to tell me now what you have been hiding from me all these weeks.”

There was no point in playing dumb or surprised. Jill had always known that Chris was too smart to not sense there was something he wasn’t being told and it didn’t even disconcert her that he was pretty much aware and that he had just been playing along. He didn't seem to be really upset about it, either. She nodded.

“Come in. I’ll make coffee.”

* * *

Despite the second mug of steaming, black coffee, Jill couldn't stop herself from shaking, and she dared believe it had nothing to do with the room temperature. Chris and she had taken a seat at the dining table and, so far, had been sipping their drinks in silence. It was the man who eventually decided to end the wordless staring.

"So?" He asked shyly, ripping the third sigh in a row from his partner.

Jill put the mug down and smiled.

"I'm still analyzing where to start."

The comment seemed to amuse the big man, who, contrary to the blonde, hooked his finger into the handle of the mug to take another slurp.

"Start at the beginning."

That seemed logical, even to her, but it was hard to say what exactly the beginning consisted of, as the roots of Umbrella reached so deep that even now, after fifteen years of fighting bioterrorism, their actual expansion remained an enigma. Jill absentmindedly bit the inside of her cheek. Maybe it was best to settle for starting where it had begun for _ them _, that tremendous night of July 1998.

"Chris," she said after clearing her throat. "What I am about to tell you will sound unbelievable." That was a nasty little understatement. What had been their reality since the nineties sounded like the plot of a low-budget horror movie, or like one of those stories kids told each other at sleepovers. "You can interrupt me as often as you want, I'm sure this will bring up a lot of questions."

Chris nodded slowly, his curious dark eyes tightly set on her features, as Jill began to chew on her bottom lip.

"On the twenty-third of July, 1998, Bravo Team was sent to the Arklay Mountains to closely investigate the murders that had taken place there," she began her tale as her hand crawled over to the S.T.A.R.S. picture, gently caressing along the frame before grabbing hold of it. "We believed it was a gang of drug addicts who mutilated and ate their victims. It was supposed to be a simple mission, but they soon lost contact with Bravo."

Chris nodded again, carefully soaking up every single one of her words as though he feared he’d miss an important detail.

"So, Alpha team was sent after them, and we soon found their chopper." Her eyes dropped to her hands, neatly folded upon the table. "With the corpse of Kevin Dooley inside."

That was when something close to terror surfaced in Chris, who had known Dooley very well, even though the man had only served Bravo team as a chopper pilot without ever belonging to S.T.A.R.S.

“Kevin’s dead?” he asked in fear.

Jill nodded.

“And so are Edward, Richard, Enrico, Forest,” she said before making a pause. The fallen members of Bravo team were painful to remember, especially when she knew that Forest Speyer and Chris had been the closest of friends in the nineties, but the people whom they had spent the most time with were the Alpha team soldiers. “As well as Kenneth and Joseph.”

The face in front of her started to crackle and fade, giving in to a mask so full of horror that it became hard to believe it was still the same man.

“They all died that one night?” he asked, the frown carving deep lines into the skin between his eyebrows. Jill nodded. “What about Wesker? Vickers?”

The upper row of teeth barely brushed her bottom lip, hovering over it like her mind hovered over the terrible images that pushed to return and she lowered her head into another nod.

“They… passed away, too,” she whispered in a husky voice. “But let me continue."

She sighed after concluding this first part of her tale, eyes on Chris and the way he pressed his lips together, the frustration and anger evident on his face when his look drove to the coffee in his hand. The death of their comrades was as painful as it had always been, but it wasn’t worth half the prayers that had been spoken if it wasn’t completed with the background story of it all. Jill lifted the mug to her lips, the burning fluid flushing her mouth and running down her throat in a river of fire and Arabica.

The fun was about to begin.

"We were attacked by dogs. At least, they looked like dogs." Chris' frown turned back to her, the way his eyes shone showed her he was listening with curiosity. "They killed Joseph and chased us into a mansion in the woods. Chris, neither of us had ever seen a building as immense as that one." Jill nodded at her own telling, preparing herself for the upcoming words.

"What happened there?"

Her blueish-grey eyes jumped to her partner, who looked as though he could sense the dread she was about to share. She blinked, trying hard to keep her gaze warm and caring.

“We found that the Umbrella Corporation, the big pharmaceutical company, was performing human experiments in that place,” she explained as every single one of her moves was quietly observed by Chris.

“Human experiments?” He asked with an incredulous huff. “Were they testing sleeping tablets and dandruff shampoo on people?”

She heard herself make a sound, one of amusement and disbelief, maybe one provoked by the empathy for Chris she was trying to tell the story with.

“Not exactly,” she eventually said and smirked. Eyes closed as though it helped her visualize the terrors again, Jill began to narrate what kind of happenings they had encountered. “They created a virus, Chris. A virus that killed people… and _ reanimated _ them.”

When had she become such a wuss to stop calling things by their name? Fine, most of the B.O.W.s had been given commercial names that Chris wouldn’t understand, but she had never hesitated to use the Z-word. Never! Not even when the events had been so recent that the fear still stuck in her bones and the putrid smell of death still lingered on her.

_ Zombies, Irons! That place was crawling with motherfucking zombies! _

Chris stared at her in awe.

“Reanimated?” he asked and laughed. “You mean like a zombie?”

Irons hadn’t wanted to believe them back then; more precisely, he had been pretending he wasn’t believing them, when the sucker had actually been almost as deep in that shit as Wesker himself, selling children from a local orphanage to Umbrella as test subjects; and Chris wasn’t believing her now. The laughter kept ringing until the blonde turned her dark gaze to him, reminding him of the warning she had spoken out at the beginning of her story.

“You fucking kidding me?”

Something twinkled in his eyes, quickly acknowledged by the blonde’s vigilant look, and she took his hand before he could jump off the chair and walk around in circles, which has always been his chosen way to act when he was thinking.

“I wish I was, Chris,” she whispered with a head shake and a smile of solace. Chris didn’t seem to truly fathom what she was telling him, but he trusted her enough to behave and listen to the complete story before making hasty judgements.

“I assume we couldn’t save them,” he muttered and it made her heart ache to shake her head.

“We were lucky to get out of there alive, Chris,”

“So,” he grunted. “When you say our colleagues, or friends, died…” He could barely speak aloud. “Do you mean they…?”

“Not all of them,” Jill responded quickly. “Forest turned and so did Edward, according to Rebecca, but Joseph, as far as I know, didn’t get up again after the dogs attacked him, neither did Kenneth.” She decided to avoid telling him how the zombie had peeled off Kenneth’s face. “Richard was swallowed by a giant snake and Enrico…” She sighed, remembering the face of the moribund Enrico Marini when he’d tried to warn them about the traitor within the lines of S.T.A.R.S. “Enrico was shot. By Wesker, probably.”

Or by Barry, who had been tricked and blackmailed into sabotaging their quest throughout the Mansion. When Jill dropped the thoughts and memories of almost getting killed by their red-bearded long-time friend, she found Chris gasping at the latest revelation.

“Wesker?” he asked, his lips shaking with incomprehension. “Why?”

She swallowed. 

“He was with Umbrella.” The words were blurted out so quickly that she nearly choked on them and Chris stared at her in horror.

“Wesker with a pharmaceutical company?” he exclaimed with a head shake. “But… he was a cop, wasn’t he? And… I mean, if there were people dying, why didn't he…?" Pausing all of a sudden, Chris shook his head. "Did he know about it?”

Jill swallowed. That was a question she had never gotten to ask herself, as every bit of piece she’d found out about Umbrella and their research that night of July 1998 was proof enough that anyone implicated who hadn’t been killed by then was _ very aware _ what was going on inside the Umbrella labs and that S.T.A.R.S. had been bound to be eliminated from the very beginning.

“It was all planned, Chris,” she said. “S.T.A.R.S. was part of their experiments. Wesker just wanted to see how well their monsters performed in combat with an elite unit like us.” She sighed. “They did well, by the way. The only survivors were Barry, Rebecca, you and I. Oh, and Brad, but Brad didn’t even enter the fucking mansion.”

_ It’s like Arklay but on steroids. _

That was what Brad Vickers had said to her when they’d been briefly wandering through the burning streets of Raccoon together. What had he known about Arklay anyway?

Chris’ eyebrows rose all of a sudden into a gesture of surprise, but something told Jill that it wasn’t about Brad being a coward. The Alpha team pilot had gotten himself the nickname _ Chicken-heart _ for a reason, after all.

“Didn’t you say Brad died as well?” Chris turned his narrowed eyes at her in a look that seemed to believe he had caught her telling a lie. It almost made her chuckle.

“He did, but not in Arklay,” she admitted and sighed deeply, swinging her mug around. The coffee was getting cold. “He died two months later when Raccoon City became the target of an outbreak.”

Chris frowned.

“The city?”

“Entirely!” 

Chris blew out a breath.

“What happened?”

Jill put the mug away and cleared her throat.

“It was in the drinking water. The virus. On September 28th, it spread like a bushfire. One turned and infected three more, maybe four, and the infection rate was exponential. They were fast, Chris, they were extremely agile when they had you in their reach. The city was doomed after a few hours. And then, there was that creature… _ Nemesis _, they called it. It was humanoid, like ten feet tall and it used weapons. No knives, Chris. Flamethrowers. Rocket launchers. Umbrella had sent it after surviving S.T.A.R.S. members. Luckily, only Brad and I were still in the city.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Chris interrupted her with a beary voice. “What does that mean… only you and Brad? What about Barry, Rebecca? What about _ me _?”

Jill blinked softly.

“I honestly don’t know what Rebecca was up to, but she disappeared only a week after Arklay and I didn’t see her again until two years later,” she laughed. “I always believed she went back home, and one day I found her wearing a lab coat, saying she’s a researcher looking for a cure.”

Chris made a shy attempt at laughing along with her.

“Barry took his family to Canada, where he considered them safe. You know they have been living there ever since,” she said. “He came back to help me get out of Raccoon City when he learned about the outbreak.”

Chris’ eyes narrowed.

“Where was I?”

She decided to give him a recomforting smile, proud to finally show Chris Redfield the hero he was.

“In Europe. Investigating Umbrella,” she sighed encouragingly. “You were the bravest of us all, Chris. You never stopped fighting.”

His fingertips began to thrum angrily onto the table as he blew out a breath, her response obviously hitting a raw nerve.

“I left you alone?” he hissed, grinding his teeth as his fingers stopped attacking the table surface and curled into a tight fist. Jill swallowed, considering if it was the right time to tell him that Claire had been in Raccoon City, too. Chris exhaled audibly as he let his look turn to the coffee as silence spread between them.

“Jill,” he eventually said. “Are you completely, absolutely sure that you’re not joking?”

Her thumb flicked lovingly over the back of his hand. She knew it was hard to believe, and the tired, hesitant glance on his features made her wish she could take back the truth. One word from her, and everything would be like before. It was so tempting, because she was absolutely certain that the lines on his face had grown a little deeper because of the story.

“Yes, Chris,” she said, her voice close to breaking. “Unfortunately, this is real. I have no proof now, but once we get back to the B.S.A.A., I will show you all the data we've collected throughout the years. There's graphic material of most B.O.W.s as well.” She nodded reaffirming, as Chris frowned in confusion. “Uhm, that stands for Bio-Organic Weapons. It’s what the monsters are called.”

Visibly overwhelmed by the information, Chris grasped Jill's hand and held it tightly, as though she was the only last real thing he could hold on to at that moment. The blonde saw his throat bob exaggeratedly as he swallowed hard before the tip of his tongue moistened his dry lips.

“I need some time to think,” he said and got up, letting go of her hand when he was already turning to the veranda.

“Okay,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her anymore.

* * *

The seat was resisting adjusting to the length of his legs and the height of his shoulders against the steering wheel, and it took Piers three minutes to finally find himself comfortable in the tiny vehicle. Claire watched him with her brows knitted into a frown.

"How exaggerated! This thing is more spacious than it looks like on the outside and I'm pretty sure your own car is just as narrow as this one."

Piers grunted a bit as he turned the key. She wasn't entirely wrong with her assumption about the inside of his favorite ride, but while the seats of his Audi had been adjusted to his size the day he'd bought it and never been changed, the red Mini was used to a more petite driver and, just like his, it would hardly give in to longer legs on the pedals. 

They had stopped at a gas station for a snack, a walk and a cigarette and, after filling the tank, Claire had agreed to let Piers drive from there on, and the first thing she’d done when sinking into the passenger seat was to pull out her phone to check it for any news from Chris and Jill.

“How is she going to call you,” Piers said and made her turn her angry gaze toward him. “If you didn’t bring her phone?"

Claire hissed in response.

“We have something like a housekeeper,” she said and rolled her jaw in thought. “Whom, now that I remember, I haven’t paid a visit. I’ll give her a call later. Anyway, Jill could use Mrs. Wilson’s phone to reach me.”

Piers found himself nodding at the piece of information.

“I see,” he said and heard Claire sigh in the seat next to his. “Hey, don’t worry. I’m sure Valentine will take care of everything.”

The redhead sighed again. Yes, she knew Jill would take care, but she couldn’t help but feel nostalgic about the little time she had spent with Chris. He would remember. Among all the things that would come back to him, there was probably also the memory of why he hated his sister so much.

“You know,” she whispered against the glass of the side window once she’d put the phone down. “Our relationship has suffered a lot in the last years.”

Piers nodded again. He had heard about the once so close Redfield siblingship that had, somehow, lost its closeness, and the few times he had witnessed them interact, he had seen all the rumors confirmed. Whatever stood between them, it was big and unforgivable. He still remembered the day they’d learned that Claire had been abducted to Alex Wesker’s island, and how Chris had refused to abandon their mission in South America to help with the search for his sister. His reasoning had been valid, of course, as they’d been as close as ever to catching that bioweapon dealer, but even after arresting the guy, Chris hadn’t gone back to see how his sister was dealing with the experience, with survivor guilt and the infection of the dreaded T-Phobos.

Piers cleared his throat as the thought hit him. He would have to ask Claire about that infection and the related risks someday.

“What happened?” But right now, there were other things to ask.

The redhead made a delicate sound of appreciation, grateful for the interest the soldier showed.

“I’m sure you know about it,” she said softly. “When Jill went missing.”

His chin rose slowly, only to drop into a soft nod.

“When she was with Wesker,” he said affirmingly, showing off his knowledge about the fact. “They declared her dead after she went out a window to save the Captain's life.”

Claire hummed and turned her face back to the window. Knowing the effect the upcoming telling always had on her, it was best to hide her eyes from Piers.

“Chris wasn’t himself back then. He… drank and became violent… verbally.”

Piers felt his eyes narrow. Chris had always been so calm and serious that imagining him verbally aggressive was hard. While most of his companions often shouted at the B.O.W.s during the confrontation, the Captain relied on firepower alone, saving his voice only for motivating words to his team.

“Did you fight?”

Her eyes met their own reflection in the glass.

“Yeah, well,” she said, shrugging at the pitiful image of herself. “He basically told me that he could fuck as many hookers as he wanted and that it was always better than sitting around in celibacy while waiting for the one guy to make his mind up.” She swallowed. “He was talking about me, in case you wonder.”

Piers swallowed. Those were some hard words Chris had given his sister, and even the certainty that he had only said them with the false bravery of alcohol, it seemed a plausible way to leave a deep scratch in a good relationship. 

"Ouch." His reply was loaded with awkwardness, hesitant about what to say to make it better, as his mind began to spin about the _ one guy _ his Captain could have been referring to. Was it Kennedy? Dude had quite a reputation, after all, and Piers remembered Chris complain about the friendship his sister and the agent shared.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Claire reacted with a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh.

"Thanks."

And her look dropped back to the phone in her hands, willing to let the conversation die and the roaring of the engine become the only one to fight the silence. Piers, though, felt irrationally uncomfortable with the silence he was given.

"Will she tell him about that time?"

Claire made a sound and turned her attention back to the driver.

"About Africa?" After receiving a gesture of affirmation from the man, she clicked her tongue. "Let me doubt that. It would make things awkward between them. It's a dark chapter for Valenfield."

Piers unconsciously lifted the foot from the pedal before throwing the redhead a frown.

"Val… what?"

Claire giggled.

"Valenfield," she said as though it was the most normal thing to know. "That's the pair name Moira gave them. Valentine plus Redfield — a love story." 

Laughter coming from two windpipes filled the little room in the car, and Piers could barely see the road through the tears that shot into his eyes.

"Valenfield," he exclaimed once the composure was regained. "But Redfield could refer to _ you _as well."

Claire winced out a ridiculing whistle.

"That's what I told Moira, too, but she said that nobody who knew the two of them would ever believe that Jill could be with anyone other than Chris." She shrugged. "She also said that _ Chrill _ or _ Jis _ doesn't sound right and, honestly, I agree with her in both cases."

The young man smiled at the warm words the redhead harbored for her brother despite the bad fight they'd once had, and he couldn't help feeling a certain jealousy of the siblings’ relationship. His parents were still alive, but he'd never had the pleasure of having someone to share their love and attention with.

“I admit they have chemistry, and, yeah, there have been rumors, but I always supposed this is a result of years of partnership.”

The comment made Claire laugh loudly, causing her head to drop back. 

“Oh, yeah, same old story,” she said amusedly and proceeded to rake her fingers through her ponytail. “Partners, just that. Partners who fight together. Partners who take care of each other. Partners who are willing to die for each other."

Piers frowned at her comment, as the undertone in Claire's voice suggested that she found the honorable relationship between soldiers on the battlefield rather ridiculous.

"What's bad about that?"

Claire shook her head in an apologetic demeanor.

"Nothing, sorry," she said, her look driving to the snowy landscape. "It’s obvious that you know that every battle could be your last one, and that it’s an honor to die for the cause. I just wonder if everyone would exchange their own life for someone else’s only for the sake of the mission. Don’t get me wrong. I’m incredibly grateful for her doing, but it makes me wonder if she would have done the same for just any other partner.”

He didn’t reply, letting his thoughts drift away as silence began to embrace them again. He had never really thought about it, believing that he would be ready to die for anyone if needed, but now that he’d learned about Claire’s point of view, he couldn’t stop ruminating. As he side-glanced hesitantly at the redhead, who hadn’t turned her look back from the window and the whiteness outside, he understood that maybe there were indeed people in the world whom it was easier to make sacrifices for.

* * *

She couldn’t tell for how long he had been outside, nor for how long she had been standing behind the window watching him, occasionally wiping the cold layer of frost off the glass with her palm. Chris’ reaction to her story didn’t surprise her, as the absently sitting around like a retiree on a park bench had been exactly what young Chris Redfield had done the first day after they had been dismissed by Irons when they’d tried to tell him about the Mansion, Wesker and the dark secrets of Umbrella.

_ This depends on us now, Jill. _

That’s what Chris had told her back then, when they didn’t really have a clue what it was that depended on them now. They had been so young.

Thick snowflakes began to rain down onto the sleepy mountain village with frightening intensity and Jill decided it was best to convince her partner to move his musings back inside before he’d turn into a snowman. She pulled the door open and dashed towards the man, whose face was red and white from the cold and the ice crystals that had settled down in the stubble of his beard. He turned his head to face her when he acknowledged her presence.

“Don’t you want to come in?” she whispered as she dropped into the chair next to him. “I promise I’ll give you the room you need.”

A blink was his only response as his mouth widened into a sly smirk. Icy fingers jumped to her hand and curled around it, holding it with the protective touch only Chris Redfield could provide, holding it as though _ she _was the one who needed comfort. Jill placed her other hand onto his, sharing the warmth of her palms.

“Do you have questions?” she asked when she considered they had been idiotically sitting in the cold for long enough. Chris nodded.

“I do, actually.” Flicking open the pack of cigarettes Claire had given him with one proficient hand, he dug out a smoke and lit it, leaving his partner impressed with his finger technique. His eyes shot back at her, scanning her closely as he blew out the toxic smoke. “That Carlos guy…”

Jill’s jaw dropped under the weight of incredulity at the mention of the U.B.C.S. soldier. After a short pause, which Chris had taken to check her reaction, he continued.

“He helped you against that thing, right? Nemesis?”

Shock, rage, fear, sadness, euphoria, Jill wasn’t sure what emotion was going to win the battle inside her. Eyes jumping pointlessly across Chris’ face, she just witnessed herself pout in annoyance when she managed to close her mouth again.

“You can’t be serious,” she shouted, barely holding back a nervous laugh. “Is that all you have to say?” She jumped up from her seat and turned to him. “Chris, I just told you that zombies exist, that our friends are dead, that it was Wesker’s doing, and you only care about a guy I met one day I was running from a monster?”

Okay, it wasn’t just that. She owed Carlos her life for several kind acts of philanthropy, but there had never been more between them than the trust of two fellow survivors, despite one or two attempts of seduction on _ his _ side. The flirting, though, had been so meaningless and unimportant that she hadn't even thought that Chris could feel irrationally jealous about it — until she'd told him. His current reaction wasn't entirely new to her, and she had always sensed that his bad mood the first days after their reunion in 1999 had something to do with Carlos. The brunette got up and faced her.

"I have been thinking about our friends and zombies for the past…" Chris’ look dropped to the watch on his raised wrist, the revelation of the current time pushing his eyebrows up into an expression of surprise. "Three hours!"

Jill watched him, amused by his look of stupefaction, as Chris shook his head.

"I have pictured them, Jill. In all possible forms. I pictured them eaten, rotten, with their face peeling off their skulls and their eyeballs on display, staring at me.” His accuracy about how a zombie really looked was fascinating, Jill realized as she heard him speak and began to wonder if the hidden memories of the truth had started to surface in flashes. “Dancing to Michael Jackson’s _ Thriller _.” Okay, maybe nothing was really surfacing.

Jill laughed slightly when the brunette waved his arms from right to left, doing the move of wrists on each side like the undead in the famous 80’s music video.

"I don't need more details about that, Jill. It will come back to me someday." His eyes narrowed as he spoke to her. "What I need to know is how I lost my girl to someone else."

"Your wha…?" Jill exclaimed in bafflement. She tried to protest, wanted to protest, but she _ couldn't _ protest because against all feministic principles, being called someone's —Chris'— property resulted to be more pleasant than she had expected, and all complaints she could come up with materialized into an audible gasp.

"Chris…"

"Is he the reason why we didn't work?"

They had never really talked about any possible upgrade of their friendship, about how the gentle, harmless flirting during their S.T.A.R.S. times had come to a stop one night in the Arklay mountains, about the feeling that _ partners _ was the best and only word for whatever it was they had. And now she was _ his _ girl.

"Oh, Chris, no," Jill mouthed into the icy wind of that snowy February afternoon. "This has nothing to do with Carlos."

He frowned at her response.

"Does that mean you two didn't…?"

He left the question awkwardly unfinished and it made Jill chuckle. She and Carlos had done a lot together, but none of the things Chris was referring to.

"No."

A smirk of satisfaction crawled onto his lips as the stare of his eyes became passive-aggressively uncomfortable. He didn't say anything. He just stared quietly at her, until the blonde didn't want to stand the pressure anymore.

"Chris, you and I, we weren't meant to be. Not after Arklay," Jill eventually said, softly tilting her head to the side as her lips drew a smile. "This all, our job, the B.S.A.A. and the battle, it's our life. We work so well as partners. It would be irresponsible to risk that."

Chris kept fighting his staring contest silently, making her feel strangely pressed and interrogated. 

“We missed our chance, huh?” he said observingly and gained himself a regretful nod from the blonde.

“Yes.”

Before Jill could add another part of her descriptive reasoning, he blew out a breath, the haze of it visible in the cold winter air.

"I refuse to accept that."

With her eyes ripped open widely, she huffed chidingly.

"Excuse me?" Her mouth dropped open as she waited for her partner to go ahead with his blunt attack. Chris shook his head and stepped closer to her.

"We should have tried." His voice adopted a seductively sensual tone as he breathed his words into her face, causing the fine hair on her neck to stand up in expectation. Jill froze on the spot when Chris ran his hands up her arms, from her elbows to her shoulders and beyond, cupping her jaw before she could fathom the happenings. "How can we know if we never tried?"

She had no answer. And if she'd had one, she wouldn't have had time to tell him, as the man was quick in bringing his lips to hers and stealing all her words, her breath and her will to complain. She had barely the chance to gasp shortly before Chris' tongue pried her mouth open and she found herself _ letting _ him. Just that; will-lessly, she let him kiss her. Had it been any other man, it would have been violent, raw and quickly castigated; but coming from Chris, so passionate and heart-felt, she didn't give a damn that he hadn't asked her for permission, because that kiss — _ that kiss _— was exactly how she had never dared imagine it would be; fiery, strong, and with that disgusting layer of smokes covering every other taste. 

With the fear of embarrassingly fainting putting her on the edge, her fingers searched anxiously for support and hooked into the thick coat the man was wearing, as Chris nibbled on her upper lip, caressing the inside of it with the tip of his tongue. Neither of them changed the angle, causing their cold noses to rub together in soft caresses, and Jill simply found herself enjoying the sensation. Just when she decided to give in to the moment and sling her arms around him, Chris pulled away and broke the kiss, leaving her mouth hungry for more.

When her eyes fluttered back open, the brunette was smiling slyly at her.

“So,” he whispered into her face as he thumbed over her cheekbones. “How about we go back inside and you tell me the rest of the story?”

And she could only nod in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the long wait. Also for the upcoming **tooth-rotting fluff**.  
I couldn't avoid it lol
> 
> Thanks a bunch for reading and all the feedback. You're making me incredibly happy.


	11. Chapter 11

Mother nature embraced the homey cabin in the woods with her protecting arms, the crystal clear veil of silence amplified by the quiet calm the fresh snow reflected. Here and there the gurgling croak of a brave early bird cut the otherwise quiet sounds of the landscape, making the trees drop handfuls of white when they searched for food within their branches. It was a peaceful Monday morning, both inside and outside the cabin.

The bacon sizzled deliciously in the frying pan, filling the air with its salty perfume, and Jill found herself magically drawn into the kitchen as soon as she came out of the bathroom. She hadn’t expected Chris to beat her again in their morning race for breakfast, as she had found the big man sound asleep before she’d stepped into the shower to clean off the remains of another restless night. The happenings of the previous day hadn’t let her go, with thoughts and memories long shoved away coming back to her —loud and in color— but it was that one tiny detail, that itch of a moment, that had really stolen all her sleep. 

The kiss.

After sixteen years of partnership, including a failed attempt at romance and flirting in the nineties and many hints, looks and questions since the latest turn of the year, Chris had finally gotten what he’d wanted and if she hadn’t been confused about her feelings for him before, now she most definitely was. Not even the refreshing shower had helped dissipate the fogginess in her head.

“Good morning!” Chris smiled softly at her as he placed the bacon slices onto a plate before pushing it over to her. “Coffee?”

Jill hesitated. The man was surprisingly stable for someone who had just found out how much of a mess full of monsters and death his life was, and she wondered if there was a part of him who still didn’t believe the story she had shared with him.

She also wondered if he knew how to make anything but eggs and bacon for breakfast.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said after waiting hopelessly for her reaction and poured her a big mug. “I wanted to thank you, Jill. For telling me everything.” One arm placed the mug onto the counter in front of the woman, who had to turn her face down to her breakfast so Chris wouldn’t see the displeasure on it.

_ Everything  _ was a relative concept. She had told him about Umbrella and about Raccoon; she had briefly introduced him to Claire’s adventures in the RPD, on Rockfort Island and Antarctica, at which Chris had run to Mrs. Wilson’s house to call his sister and ask her for forgiveness. She had informed him about Wesker’s repeated survival; about important battles they had fought; about how Chris Redfield had stopped being an S.O.A. to become the Captain of the North American S.O.U., Alpha Team, leading him to recruit natural talents like Piers Nivans and many other soldiers. She had even told him about their failed mission in Edonia in which most of his men had lost their lives.

She hadn’t told him about the Spencer Estate, though.

It wasn’t important, was it? And she wasn’t ready to make herself look like a heroine, anyway; not after all the crimes she’d been forced to commit. Once Wesker had found his little mind-control drug and made her his puppet, she had tortured, infected and slaughtered many people — innocent people— , and there was no self-sacrifice, light sensitivity or disrupted dream in the world that could make up for all her sins.

“You’re welcome,” she breathed into her mug and began to slurp the hot drink, her eyes watching her partner closely as he went back to prepare his own plate.

They hadn’t spoken about the kiss nor about what it had done to her. It had come so unpredictably out of nowhere that she had expected him to just do it again at any time, putting her on constant alert. He hadn’t, though. He hadn’t even tried, and Jill couldn’t stop herself from feeling somewhat disappointed about it.

“I hope you will take me to headquarters soon,” he added when he leaned over his plate at the counter facing her. “Maybe if I see the images…”

And now? Now he was acting like nothing had ever happened. Jill frowned.

“You still don’t remember?”

Chris blew out a breath.

“Flashes,” he said and surprised her with his honesty. “Sensations. I saw a picture of a sinister painting in a catalogue and my head began to hurt.”

Jill chuckled. Many people related to Umbrella shared a strange obsession for creepy artworks, and they had often laughed about the other common interests of the researchers, besides the virus thing and the experiments.

“You’ll soon remember,” she said, unsuccessfully trying to poke her fork into a crispy slice of bacon. “We will get back to New York after breakfast. And if you want to, we can go straight to headquarters.”

Chris nodded, leaving his breakfast on the counter with the distinctive clunk of a ceramic plate.

“Great!”

* * *

It was past noon when they reached the huge building the B.S.A.A. had chosen to be their headquarters. Placed outside the city limits, it enjoyed the luxury of having enough space for an outside training ground as big as two football fields, its own shooting range and five floors of offices, gym and other kinds of comforts. 

Chris couldn’t get his mouth to close when Jill turned at the traffic light and entered the parking garage.

“This is where we work?”

The blonde chuckled as she rolled down the window and pressed the red alarm button on the device at the access gates.

_ Hello? _

“Hi, this is Jill Valentine. I forgot my access card. Can you please open the gate for me?”

Index finger and thumb raised her sunglasses to her front, so the girl on the other end could see her face through the camera and identify her as the person she claimed to be.

_ Good morning Miss Valentine. Nice to see you again. Mister Johnson will be happy to have you back. _

As soon as the position of the sunglasses was corrected, Jill rolled her eyes at the comment. After a short  _ Thank you _ , she drove into the parking garage, leaving the Audi in Piers’ usual spot.

“Johnson, right,” Chris muttered thoughtfully. “The director of all this.”

She nodded softly before killing the engine, letting her tongue snap into an audible click. 

“He’s not as bad as we described him,” she said before she and Chris got out of the car. “We were just used to higher standards, you know?”

The man slammed the door shut too brutally —surprised by the strength in his limbs— and gave her a nod of understanding.

“O’Brien.”

Jill made a face of bafflement. It was impressive how easily Chris had retained even the tiniest piece of information she had fed him, recovering every detail with no effort and outing himself as the world’s best listener.

They decided to take the stairs. It would give Chris time to get used to the smell and noises, approach their target slowly instead of being spat into a chaotic reception hall by the elevator, and the man appreciated it. His palms were wet with warm sweat as they climbed up the steps to the first floor, where a big glass door with a huge emblem saying  _ Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance, North American Branch _ welcomed them. He was happy that it was his elbow Jill squeezed before opening the door and asking him to step in —at least, it was dry. A couple of young women were seated at a curved front desk made of maple wood, one of them anxiously turning from one side to the other on her wheeled office chair as she was engaged in an animated phone call; the other, so far busy stapling a stack of papers, turned to greet the two founding members.

“Captain Redfield!” She jumped up, making her blond curls wave blithely around her head as her fingers began to pull on the hem of her skirt to make sure every compromising spot was covered. “It’s so good to see you! How are you feeling?”

Jill slowly placed a hand onto the desk.

“Take it easy, Jenny,” she said in a soothing voice. “He has amnesia.”

The girl’s shiny red lips formed a surprised  _ O _ when her big blue doll eyes turned back to the man. 

“I see, I’m sorry.”

Chris chuckled, feeling how his mouth grew automatically into a big grin when his look collided with the girl’s. She couldn’t be older than nineteen, twenty at much, and the way she tried to look professional and  _ grown-up  _ reminded him somehow of Claire. Claire, though, wouldn’t have made it through her teenage days had he ever caught her with such short skirts on. He laughed.

“Don’t worry. Just have some patience if I don’t remember something you told me...” One hand of his drew big circles backwards in the air. “It’s because I’m having some troubles remembering general stuff.”

She laughed a shrill laughter and the well-defined golden locks jumped like thin metal springs around her head. The girl in fire-red hair next to her slammed the handset back onto the phone and got up.

“Agent Valentine, Captain Redfield,” she said with a respectful nod. Her demeanor was serious and calm, unlike her unnaturally red hair. “It’s good to see you’re back.”

“Thank you, Amanda,” Jill replied. “I will show Mister Redfield around to see if he starts remembering anything. I will be in my office later. If anyone asks for Chris, send them to me.”

The two girls smirked understandingly and Jill turned Chris and herself away from the front desk.

“You have an office of your own?” Chris asked incredulously when they went through the glass door to take the stairs to the second floor. The question made Jill laugh.

“Of course! I practically live here. My own office is the least I can ask for.” Her reply made him laugh. “You have one, too, by the way.”

He stopped, letting Jill walk up a couple of steps as he assimilated the news. He couldn’t deny that he used the chance to side glance at the roundness of her butt in those skin tight jeans; a view used to stealing more than one breath.

“You kidding me?”

And she laughed, stretching her hand out to invite him to follow her. And the sound of her laughter made his heart flutter.

“Come with me. I’ll show you.”

* * *

“And this, Captain Redfield, is your office!”

The expectation that had held him captive from the moment Jill had informed him about the existence of their own offices until she had opened the door ripped a gasp of surprise from him when he saw how beautifully the sun flooded the room and showered the pieces of furniture. Desk and shelves were held in the same light maple tone as the front desk and all other pieces they had come across on their way through the facility.

“Wow!”

It was all he could articulate, with his mind too busy keeping himself on his feet. He wandered wordlessly into the room, blinded by all the pictures and awards on the shelf, and baffled by the hero he apparently was. It was so full of memories he’d never had that his head began to ache. He turned around, letting his look inspect the four walls closely. That was a pretty nice office they had given him, bright and spacious, especially compared to the tiny, window-less wardrobe Wesker had occupied during his S.T.A.R.S. days and which he’d even had to share with Enrico. Chris grimaced when he thought of his days back at S.T.A.R.S., so present to him, but so long gone to the man he was supposed to be.

“You okay?”

He turned to face the concerned look of Jill. How would he ever thank her for staying with him after the accident she said he’d had? He was so grateful for her presence, for she and Claire were the only people in this goddamn universe who seemed to keep him grounded, reminding him of who he was beyond who he was supposed to be. He might have gone crazy in his very own future if it hadn’t been for them. 

“Yeah.”

How beautiful she was, those bright eyes of hers loaded with curiosity, and standing out majestically from the paleness of her face along with the round little nose and her lips. 

Her lips.

He couldn’t suppress the twitch of his mouth when he thought of the kiss he had stolen from her and which was, apparently, the apex of their relationship so far. Soft and hungry, Jill Valentine had the sweetest mouth he’d ever gotten to kiss — as far as he remembered.

He hadn’t insisted, sensing how  _ uneasy  _ she had been with the sudden situation, if that wasn’t an understatement. The blonde hadn’t stopped chewing on her lower lip throughout the telling of their story afterwards, she had started blinking nervously and had spilled her coffee twice, and he had decided that one kiss was enough for the time being. She seemed to have recovered from the shock, joking and laughing again as though nothing had happened, but there was still a hole in the layer of coolness and poise.

“Do you remember anything?”

Besides the taste of her? He breathed in and shrugged, concealing his thoughts.

“No. I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed bitterly, but the rosy roundness of her lip twitched into a smile of comfort and hope as she made a lovely little sound of cheer.

“Don’t be. It’ll soon come back to you. Just take your time,” she said and turned to the door, pointing into the hallway. “I have to get something from my office very quickly before I can show you around and introduce you to your former… to your  _ future  _ life.” An awkward expression climbed onto her face as she spoke. “Stay here and take a look around. Remember that everything in this office belongs to you.”

His look followed her, glued to her round little ass until she disappeared into the hallway. He snickered to himself and resumed his inspection of the room, flooded by the intense bluish-yellow of the wintersun and Chris spotted the specks of dust flying through the air whenever he took a step forward. His own office. His father would be proud, he assumed. Just as the thought came to him, he turned to the shelf and frowned. If he really spent so much time in that place, why weren’t there any pictures of his family in his office? Pictures of his parents and Claire, at least.

He frowned at the thought, wondering what kind of man it was that worked or lived behind that desk of his, and if he would like him once he met him.

“You’re back!”

He turned around and met the gaze of a woman in long, dark hair that covered her whole frame down to her elbows like one of those religious robes. Red lips shone through from behind the locks, giving a hint of life to the pale face underneath. It was a different paleness than Jill’s, Chris realized, as the woman in front of him wore it with pride and power, while Jill seemed almost ashamed of her skin whenever he gazed at her for too long. It looked better on the blonde, though.

“Hi,” he said and smiled kindly, stretching his hand out. “I’m Chris.”

The woman’s left eyebrow jumped up, making him reconsider his last words.

“Sorry, I mean... You probably know that.”

The beautiful though uninteresting young lady in the tight, blue dress chuckled as soon as her expression relaxed.

“So, it’s true what they say?” She breathed as she swaggered into his direction and Chris watched her alarmedly. She was young. She was beautiful. She looked like she ate a couple of men for breakfast every day. “You lost your memory?”

He had smelled her when she had still been standing at the door. Now that he had the woman right under his nose, her perfume was poisoning, sweet and sour like a green apple, and her intense stare said she was used to getting whatever she wanted by saying three little words. From  _ Eat my pussy _ to  _ Wash my car _ , it didn’t matter.

“Well maybe I can help you remember,” her voice loaded with eroticism, she leastways could have had the decency to introduce herself before looping her arm around his neck and sticking her tongue into his mouth. Chris was too surprised to pull away before she had the chance to moan a couple of times, but when he understood what was happening, his hands rose immediately to her shoulders and pushed her back.

“Oh, lady, I….”

She made a sound of disappointment and clicked her tongue, making him almost fear her punishment.

“No?” A pair of eyebrows rose in expectation, until he shook his head into her displeased face. “How odd. I thought you would remember the good time we had at the Christmas party.” Another awaiting glance; another headshake. “In the supply room?”

Chris deadpanned a second, considering what it was that they had done in that supply room at the Christmas party. He probably didn’t want to know.

“Melissa!”

Had there ever been a voice as wonderful as the loud grunt Piers Nivans projected into his office? When the pair turned, they found the young lieutenant standing in the doorway, with his arms tightly crossed and a look of disapproval on his face.

“Don’t you have work to do?”

The woman —Melissa— upon getting caught by the man, dedicated another smirk to Chris before innocently tucking her hair behind her right ear.

“Your puppy is here,” she whispered and patted his chest before turning to the door.

“I heard that,” Piers complained as she walked past him, at which the dark-haired woman gave him a lascive look over her creamy shoulder.

“Cool down,  _ Airhart _ ,” she said, making her way out of the office, sway after sway. “That bossy attitude isn’t getting you anywhere.”

The young man snorted like a dragon about to spit fire, waiting patiently until the lady was out of sight. Chris stood in his corner of the room, hesitant of the apology he should be giving.

“She knows my name,” Piers finally broke the awkward silence, explaining the earlier exchange as though he wanted to restore his own manly pride. “She works in Human Resources. She knows, at least, that Airhart’s dead. She’s just being an immense bitch.”

Chris nodded, showing comprehension. Despite the woman’s intense and extremely persuasive arguments, he had no doubt that Piers was the one worthy of his trust. After all, he was the one his former self had chosen to be his second-in-command. 

Although his former self also spent his Christmas parties in supply rooms.

“Did you imagine your office like this?” Piers asked with a smile growing on his face and tugged him out of his musings. “Any memories surfacing?”

Chris laughed. 

“I didn’t know I had one, to be honest. This is all so overwhelming, but I don’t remember anything. Yet.”

The other man's face distorted into an awkward grimace.

“You’ll soon remember," he said encouragingly and smiled. 

How were they all so certain about that? Over two months had passed and he didn’t remember anything solid. How could he get a grasp on the instant flashes that came to him, so briefly that he sometimes couldn’t tell if it was a memory trying to come back or just a sneeze. 

“Isn’t Agent Valentine around?”

Chris almost didn’t catch the question, quickly nodding eagerly as soon as he recognized the familiar name of his partner.

"She went to get something," he replied with a gesture to the hallway. "She'll be right back."

Piers smirked.

"Maybe you want to…" he mumbled, one finger pointed at his mouth. "Have a look into the mirror before."

Oh, god, that woman's lips had been  _ redder _ when she'd entered the room than when she had left again, being the layer one intense shade of fire minus a softer hint of blood, and the result lay traitorously on his own face. Chris sucked in a short stream of air and leaped towards the door, crowning Piers' shoulder with a thankful pat.

"Restrooms are down the corridor," the younger man advised.

Before he could swing his form out of the office like a dancer around a pole, the captain turned back to the man.

"Piers?" He asked, quickly gaining a gesture of attention from the man. "How clean are the supply rooms here?"

After a couple of thoughtful blinks, the lieutenant grimaced in disgust, discarding any idea that wasn't related to keeping supplies in said rooms with a head shake.

"I see," Chris muttered. "Thank you."

* * *

Jill clicked restlessly through the pictures and reports they had gathered throughout the years. Not much was left about Arklay, as the few reports they had been clever enough to shove into their pouches on their way through the mansion had been quickly confiscated by Irons. They were lucky Jill and Rebecca had made copies of the most compromising documents before involving the Police Chief, but when Raccoon City had burned, they had lost half of the rest. Whatever they had experienced after the fall of the metropolis, though —with the exception of Rockfort Island and the base in Antarctica—, was precisely documented and reported, completed with pictures of drawings, detailed descriptions and background information about who was pulling the strings behind the scenarios. When the B.S.A.A. had been founded, they had scanned every tiny piece of paper, keeping digital copies accessible to anyone in the organization. Ordered, tagged and stored, it was an immense database of bioterror that served organizations worldwide in their fight against terrorists.

Jill didn't know where to start with her selection of material she would show Chris. Pictures of zombies, perhaps. Among all the B.O.W.s and other infected, maybe they were the easiest to get over due to their remaining human appearance. Or maybe it just made it harder. Hunters had a human base, but the reptile DNA that had been crossed into them gave them looks that made you forget that you weren't just killing an animal. She sighed. Maybe she would start with zombie dogs.

A knock on the door sent her look upwards to meet the face of director Johnson. The victoriously pleased glance of the man put another frown onto her face. The whole situation around Chris' amnesia would carve deep wrinkles even into the genetically enhanced youthful appearance of her face.

"Agent Valentine," Johnson greeted. "I heard you were back. Welcome."

Forcing a smile, she got up to show the director the respect he always requested. 

"Thank you," she gasped. "It feels good to be here again. Captain Redfield's back, too. I'm planning on introducing him to his past. I'm sure you heard…"

"That he has amnesia, yes." The man grunted, the way he scratched his elbow showing how uncomfortable he was about social interactions. "I'd love to get our own team to check on him. Just to confirm…"

Her eyebrow jumped into a sarcastic expression as she was confronted with the ideas.

"Confirm what?" She asked, arms crossed in front of her chest. "That he doesn't remember? Sir, I don't think we need a second opinion on that. Chris wouldn't fake an amnesia and the two doctors that checked on him in Europe are reputed professionals in their fields."

It was obvious that Johnson didn't like her tone, but the intense flickering of his eyes said he was, at least, considering her words. After a brief moment exchanging glances, the man blew out a breath.

"I see, yes." He nodded and turned to the door. "I trust your criteria in this, Agent Valentine. I know you will make sure Captain Redfield will be operative as soon as possible." 

He thrummed his fingers against the door leaf, waiting for her to respond. Jill let him wait a second longer than needed, only to redeem her position as a founding member.

"Yes."

With a laugh, Johnson eventually excused himself and left the office, and Jill dropped back into the chair. The tension drawn from her body, she relaxed. 

It looked like she had just gotten into a catfight with Johnson over Chris' peace of mind. And she knew that she would, most probably, do it again.

It was all she could do for him.

* * *

Never had he been happier not to run into another soul on his way to the restrooms, as that woman's cherry chapstick covering the skin around his lips had given him the looks of a circus clown, and it had taken him more than six sheets of toilet paper to wipe the red stains off his face. Sugary and creamy like candy it was, but he was certain that Jill's lips were still the sweetest he had ever kissed.

Chris turned his attention from the lower part of his reflection up to his eyes, and he couldn't recognize the man behind them anymore. Ever since he'd woken up from his coma, he hadn't felt particularly weird in this grown-up version of himself, but seeing what he had become against his will made him wonder what kind of trauma he'd had to endure. Bioterrorism was some serious shit, but was it enough to turn him into a man who didn't care enough to take a girl to a hotel instead of hastily fucking her in a supply room?

But who really cared? It didn’t matter if said girl wasn't Jill Valentine.

He chuckled at himself. Had it been Jill, it would have been different, of that he was sure. Jill deserved to be loved, not to be kept in a dark room like a broomstick, although he had to admit that the dream of throwing her onto Wesker’s desk in the S.T.A.R.S. office had crossed his mind more than once. They would have made much better use of it.

Chris sighed at his sad reflection. It was time for him to finally face the mystery of a man he had become. After pushing the door to the hallway back open, he noticed the bright light that was poured into the building, swallowed easily by the dark carpet floor. He hadn't paid attention to the big glass door before, but now that all hurries and worries about lipstick were forgotten, he decided to enjoy the view of the garden attached to the building.

Only that it wasn't a garden.

* * *

When she returned to Chris' office and found the figure of Piers Nivans propped against the wall next to the window, she instantly knew where all the comparisons came from. The young man had unconsciously adopted even simple gestures of his Captain, and Jill had to admit it looked good on him, even though it made him appear older than he was.

"Piers," she greeted and let a puzzled gaze wave across the office. "Where is Chris?"

He smiled quickly, rewarding her with an affirmative gesture.

"In the restrooms. He'll be back in no time."

Jill nodded in relief, dragging herself over to Chris’ desk, where she took a seat and flipped open the laptop she had brought with her.

“Oh, thanks for the ride,” she said and pulled the man’s car key out of her pocket. “It was really helpful. Tank’s full.”

With a smirk of relief on his lips, the young soldier pushed himself away from the wall and took the keys. He wouldn’t admit it, but he had wished really badly for them to give his car back. The full fuel tank was a just payment for the inconveniences.

He played it down brilliantly, though, only cheering a little bit when he replied, “Thanks. I can take you and the Captain back home later if you need it.”

He was a gentleman after all, and Jill accepted the offer gratefully.

“How was the ride yesterday? Any complications?” she asked, curiously watching the young man’s reaction.

“Not at all,” he responded, willing to let Jill know how well he had watched over his Captain’s younger sister and how he had taken her home and left the Mini with her before getting back to his place by subway. However, Chris stumbled back into the room before Piers could even mention the redhead. 

“Hey!” Jill exclaimed as she saw him and jumped up, pointing at the screen. “I brought my laptop. Couldn’t expect you to remember your password.”

She laughed. Chris didn’t. He just stared at her in silence, as though he didn’t really understand what she was telling him.

“I was going to show you pictures of…” she said and shrugged. “You know… everything.”

Chris’ reaction put a frown onto Piers’ face. Hadn’t he seen and spoken to his Captain just half an hour before; a long time for a walk to the restrooms, admittedly; he would have simply attributed his behavior to the revelations Jill had shared with him, but Chris had been normal Chris when he’d found him in the fangs of Melissa Knox before; maybe a little shier than usual, but awake and curious. The man that stood with them in the room right now would have been stomped into the ground by the Captain he was used to.

Jill pulled the chair away from the desk as a silent offer for Chris to have a seat, and the big man began to move. Piers watched them, admiring Jill Valentine for bravely keeping her composure as the Captain walked past her, still wordlessly, and sank into the chair. She leaned over the desk and typed something into the computer before a sigh found its way out.

“Chris?” She called his name and the man turned his face to her. “Some of these images are hard to look at. Please tell me if you start feeling sick or dizzy. Also if you have questions, okay?”

How those icy eyes of hers could spread such a warm look would remain a mystery to Piers, but whenever Jill Valentine looked at Chris Redfield, there was indeed a special connection between them; something that could even be sensed from the outside, if you were close enough. A connection made of trust, friendship, maybe love. It was the essence of  _ Valenfield _ . Piers chuckled softly when he remembered the talk he’d had with Claire the previous day. She was right. What was between Chris and Jill, was more than just partnership or chemistry.

“I’ll get going,” he mumbled and walked to the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

But he knew that everything they needed was with them in the same room.

* * *

When the pen stopped writing, she knew the day was over. Claire had been stuck in meetings all morning long, trying hard not to give in to sleepiness when the financial director laid out the department's budget plans for the current quarter, complaining about how the rest of the NGO had exceeded the budget by fourteen percent to meet their insignificant goals. Afterwards, she had been listening to the whining of one of the major donors, who had threatened her with rescinding his annual donation if his company wasn’t treated better in the future. At four, she decided she had worked enough for that day and chose to quickly make a list of tasks she would take care of throughout the rest of the week before leaving, and she was lucky that the pen stopped spitting out ink and just scratched noisily over the paper. She might still sit in her office making said list, if not.

After releasing a deep sigh, Claire dug out her phone from her pocket and tried to call Jill again. She could barely wait to speak to Chris and ask him how he was feeling, the phone call of the previous day still itching under her skin. Chris had never really apologized to her for leaving her in the dark about Umbrella; not back in the 90s, not in the present time; mostly because he was certain he had done it to protect her; boldly ignoring that his concern had nearly gotten her killed anyway. But now he had apologized. He had asked her for forgiveness and she felt closer than ever to her big brother.

She dialed Jill’s number again. The blonde had told her they were coming back to New York that day, and if they had left in the morning, they had sure long reached the city. So why didn’t she just pick up the fucking phone?

Finding the device disconnected again, she tossed her own phone away in anger, wondering silently who she would call next to bother them about the current location of Valenfield. The office, maybe. 

Before she could dial the number of the B.S.A.A., she changed her mind and quickly chose a different person to call. She was relieved to hear the ring tone.

_ “Claire?” _

A second later, she felt incredibly stupid for not coming up with a better way to greet the voice on the other end.

“Hey, Piers,” she said and rubbed her front into her palm. “I… sorry I’m calling but… You won’t happen to know where my brother and Jill are…?”

There was white background noise and the sound of honkings wherever he was; probably in a car. Good, if he had his ride back, it meant that Jill and Chris had returned it already.

_ “Oh, you just missed them. Left them at Valentine’s place a minute ago.” _

A sigh of relief escaped her lips.

“Oh, thank god,” she exclaimed. “I feared the worst.”

The man laughed.

_ “What could have possibly happened to them? Relax. They spent the day at the office, going through different types of B.O.W.s and introducing your brother to the colleagues. Jill mentioned they hadn’t even gone home before, so her phone is probably still off.” _

A smirk of relief grew on her lips. She had become a little paranoid, it seemed, and she couldn’t deny that she suddenly felt embarrassed about the situation. However, after the very personal talks they’d had in the car on their way home the day before; not to mention their night together; she could surely consider Piers one of her friends now, and he would understand her concerns.

“How is he?”

Piers made a sound of hesitation.

“ _ Oh well, he’s dealing pretty well, I think. He seems to be a little confused, but don’t worry, Claire. He's still adapting. _ " 

She felt her facial muscles tense as a wide smile spread across her lips. She pressed the phone tighter to her ear and nervously tapped her finger onto the backside of the device.

"Okay, thanks Piers. I guess I'll just wait for her to give me a call."

She heard him sigh impatiently before he responded in an agitated tone,  _ "Yeah, it's the best thing you can do." _

She rolled her eyes at the thought that she was probably bothering him. How dumb she felt. He was driving and didn't have time for the bullshit of a paranoid old lady.

He heard her laugh.

" _ Okay, thank you, Piers,"  _ the hands-free kit said with Claire's voice. _ "I won't waste any more of your time _ ."

"You don't…" he tried to say, but Claire had already hung up, leaving him alone with the silence that was the traffic noise to him. And he kept driving through the city streets, now helplessly delivered to the mercy of his own cold thoughts.

* * *

"It's okay, Claire," Jill mumbled into the phone for the uptenth time, rolling her eyes at Chris in amusement. "Don't worry."

When the redhead had finally gotten to speak to her brother that day, the scene from the previous afternoon just repeated itself in front of Jill's eyes. Chris on the phone with his sister, spelling all kinds of apologies and warm words to each other. Something was different this time, though, something that had shifted on the man's face so imperceptibly that she had to check twice if it wasn't just a product of her exhausted mind. It wasn't. It was there. A line of something she couldn't identify as something she had seen on him before, and it made her believe that any of the promises she could give to his sister were actually a big, fat lie.

"Of course, he'll be fine."

Chris had dropped his whole weight onto the couch, searching for the needed rest after a long, exhausting day, and Jill joined him as soon as she ended the call with Claire.

"So? How was your day?"

He laughed darkly without really looking at her, and the reaction was so uncommon for the cheerful man he had become that Jill almost believed to find old Chris beneath that protective fortress the amnesia had built around him. She swallowed, afraid of any reaction he could show, but bravely deciding to put her hand onto his shoulder anyway.

"You okay?"

He turned his face to her, allowing her look to collide with this stare full of accusation. His hand crawled up to hers on his shoulder and held it in a tight grasp before she could pull it back. The gesture was filled with such passive violence that it almost scared her.

"Chris?"

He clicked his tongue as his eyes turned into narrow slits.

"I went to the graveyard today."

Instinct made her want to pull her hand back, but her self control kept her from trying. It would have been useless, anyway, as the man was still holding it too tightly. She knew what came next, when all the pieces suddenly fit together and the whole situation; Chris' demeanor included; began to make sense.

"Oh, really?" 

But she wasn't going to let anxiety control her, willing to delay the inevitable. Chris responded to her interested question with a sigh, releasing her hand from his. The blonde took the chance to break the physical contact and turn away, walking straight towards the kitchen.

"What do you want for dinner?" She innocently asked as she opened the fridge and bathed in the bright shine of the cool light. She didn't flinch when she heard Chris' heavy footsteps following her into the kitchen. "Chicken or…?"

"Why is there a tombstone with your name on it, Jill?"


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, guys :) I had to take care of some other things before finishing this chapter, and it didn't quite become what I expected it to become. I hope you enjoy it.  
Lots of love,
> 
> Xaori

Jill kept her eyes set on the inside of the fridge, disappointed that it wasn't a window to another world that would lead her to safety; far away from Chris and the question she had dreaded ever since the man had lost his memory.

"Answer my question, Jill," he insisted. "Why is there a tombstone with your name on it?"

That was not the question. The question was how he had found the fucking thing in the backyard of the B.S.A.A. in the first place, when she had planned on introducing him slowly to the organization's private graveyard where all their dead S.T.A.R.S. comrades and all the fallen B.S.A.A. soldiers had their own memorial. Naturally, her grave was there, too. Jill sighed deeply, grabbing the lettuce from the fridge and turning away, avoiding Chris' glance as she proceeded to search the first drawer for a knife.

"Because someone believed that having it removed was an unnecessary cost." Her voice was filled with boredom when she finally gave him a logical answer.

The blade cut through the green leaves, turning them into bite-sized slices as she let silence breathe. Chris, visibly annoyed, approached her and placed his hand onto her fingers around the knife. A shy look turned to the big man, finding the weighty question exteriorized in a frown.

"Why was it put there in the first place?"

Their cold glances met in the tiny space between them, and Jill felt the irrational need to kick him in the guts and flee, run off and never mention the subject again, but she had never been a coward. No. Jill Valentine had always looked danger right in the eyes, running into every confrontation supported by the scent of gunpowder and green herbs. As luck would have it, neither were available to help her now. She forced out a laugh.

“It’s easy, Chris,” she said with a shrug. “I went missing and was declared dead.”

Her look adopted a load of challenging pride when she raised her eyebrow at her partner and Chris suddenly released her hand. She took the chance to turn away, walk back to the fridge and pretend to be looking for more ingredients for the salads she’d suddenly decided they’d have for dinner.

“I lost you?” He grunted with a self-loathing undertone that caused Jill to sigh in despair. The conversation wasn’t over yet.

“Oh, Chris...” She pushed the fridge shut and turned back to him, bathing him in her look full of sorrow. “You searched for me. Three long and bitterly cold months you were out there, turning around every stone to see if you would find a hint. I was declared dead, but you never stopped searching.”

She watched him ruminate, watch countless questions race through his head in circles, and she knew that they were far from being done, and that the conversation would inevitably lead to the part she so desperately wanted to skip.

“And where were you?”

She could lie to him, couldn’t she?

“And how long were you gone? You mentioned three months?”

She could make up a story; maybe one about an amnesia like his. She could say she had lived with the wolves in the Hungrian forest for six months before finding her way back to civilization, that she had been adopted by an old, childless couple who had been dreaming of having a daughter, and who had stuffed her with pastry and meatballs until she’d grown fat. That her adoptive father, József, had told her many stories because he spoke a little English while her mother, Adrienn, only communicated with gestures and sounds. That she’d had the most lovely laughter in the world. That Jill missed her fake parents because they had been more like a family to her than her real parents.

Yes, she could make up a story.

“Don’t make me do this,” she whined softly as a knot rose into her throat. She couldn’t lie to him; he would find out sooner or later and it would all be worse; but telling the truth was such a painful thought. “I can’t do this, Chris. Neither of us deserves this.”

She dropped the vegetables and began to clean her hands frantically, rubbing and scratching her skin as though the soap would be enough to clean her conscience from all the sins she had committed when Wesker had controlled her. The blood seemed to be a permanent addition to her complexion... What would Chris think of her if he found out what she had done, how  _ her  _ blood and  _ her  _ antibodies had made Uroboros the dangerous weapon it was, how it had nearly decimated mankind so only the worthy could reign and rule, and how the greed for its power had even pushed Neil Fisher to betray his teammates; Claire among them; so he could revive the shady FBC? All because of  _ her _ .

“What do you mean, Jill?” His voice was loud and beary, the look on his face, though, a painting of panic and fear. “Why don’t you want to tell me what happened?”

She was shivering. She was shivering and shaking and her whole self was being reduced to a wobbly mass of doubt. After another sigh, Jill turned to the lower cabinet in the corner.

“I need a drink,” she muttered and reached for the bottle of Tequila she had once brought home from Mexico and which she had been keeping for a special occasion. What occasion was better than this one? She frowned perplexedly at the bottle when she found it half empty. “What the…?”

“Jill,” Chris called out for her again and she got up grabbing a couple of glasses and filling them.

“You want some?” she asked and snorted at the headshake she was given. It was funny to see Chris Redfield turn down a drink. “Fine. More for me.”

He watched her silently as she downed the two shots and exhaled deeply after each, letting the liquid fire burn down her throat and heat her up. It was the one push she had needed, the trigger that made her remember that she was Jill  _ Fucking  _ Valentine and that she didn’t fear anything.

Anything but losing Chris.

“I was with Wesker,” she said resolutely and turned her gaze to her partner right in time to see the blood drain from his face. She hadn’t known that the natural tan of his skin could fade so easily into a layer of paleness.

He gasped. He swallowed.

“What did you say?”

Her tongue moistened her dry lips before she repeated her last words.

“I was with Wesker,” she pronounced. “For three years.”

His lip began to twitch into a tentative smirk, as though he expected her to start laughing at him, tell him it was a joke, but he knew she wasn’t joking, and the faint smile was soon replaced by nothing but shock.

“What…” he cleared his throat. “What happened?”

They stood in the kitchen, each on one side, both waiting for something to happen and put an end to the silence between them. Chris was waiting for her to speak, while Jill hoped that someone would call her, knock on the door or interrupt them in any other way, so she wouldn’t have to tell this story right away. It wouldn’t spare her an explanation, but the tension wouldn’t be as thick and dense as it was now. Nothing happened, though, and when the waiting had lost all strings of natural, she sighed, preparing for the darkest part of her story.

“In 2006 we got a lead on Spencer.“ She breathed in and let her look rise from the ground to the face of the man in front of her. The shock still sat deep inside him, that much she knew. “Do you remember who Spencer was?”

What a question. He nodded one single time.

“One of the founders of Umbrella,” he muttered out in a grunt. “Father of the Wesker project.”

Had there been an exam, he would have passed with excellence, and Jill couldn’t hold back a proud smirk before licking it off her lips with the tip of her tongue.

“You and I, we entered his Estate in Hungary,” she explained and felt her right boot engage in the rhythmic tapping on the floor. “It was like the Mansion in the Arklay mountains again. Spooky and dark. A little smaller.” She sighed. “No zombies this time, but those shelled abominations of B.O.W.s luring in the basement. We found Spencer, eventually, dead, Wesker standing above him; the blood on his hands still warm.”

Chris’ eyes narrowed.

“He killed him?”

The nod she gave him wasn't more than a short twitch.

“Wesker had been as much an ideal son as Spencer had been a loving father,” she said. “It had to end like that.”

She reached for the Tequila bottle again, wondering briefly if the remaining content would be enough for her to get her through the rest of the tale. A sigh slipped into the glass before she drank.

“We fought him,” she continued, leaving the glass aside. “We tried, at least. He had become something beyond human. Chris, he dodged most of our bullets, and those that hit their target didn’t hurt him.”

Their gazes met hastily, and even in the dimming light of the evening she knew that she had all of his attention set on her. How could she just go now and break his heart?

“What happened next?”

She inhaled through wide nostrils, knowing that the time had come for her to come clean. Once caught at this dead end, there was no point in lying to him now.

“He caught you. Lifted you by the collar,” she said and lowered her head, surprised to find a tear dropping from her left eye down to her crossed arms. Unhooking them, her hand suddenly rose, imitating the gesture she had seen on Wesker in that room in Hungary. “I knew he was going to rip your heart out and I couldn’t… I couldn’t let that happen, Chris.” She looked back at him and swallowed down the sorrow in her voice. “I needed to do something, or neither of us would have survived.”

He didn’t dare breathe, so absorbed by her story that he even believed his heart had stopped beating. Voice almost drawn from him by tension, his words were just a whisper when he asked, “What did you do?”

Jill was breathing quietly. The situation felt like a dream to her, as though she wasn’t even there. She pictured herself standing in the kitchen, just as she had seen herself sprint toward Wesker that fateful night.

“I tackled him through the window and down a cliff,” she said and clicked her tongue. “And I went down with him.”

_ This is it. _

She remembered the salty, green odour of the spruces under them as they were flying straight down into the woods, the whistling of the air around her ears and the bitter cold that froze her limbs and numbed her face. And the one thought she had been able to pull after her.

_ Good bye, you cruel world _ .

Because she had known she was going to die. She had felt sorry for Chris, knowing how hard it would be for him to understand and overcome; knowing that she wasn’t doing him any favor by letting him survive; but it was the only chance she had seen. With Chris dead, Wesker would have ended her own miserable life quickly, too, just for fun. Not that he believed she was a threat. 

He had never seen her as a threat. Every step of the way, he had only been focused on Chris.

And that had been Wesker’s goddamn mistake. Had he just paid a little more attention, not been so obsessed with Redfield, he would have seen her running towards him, and he would have killed both of them with one breath.

But he hadn’t. 

It was as though Albert Wesker had wanted her to save her partner.

“You… you saved me…”

Chris’ voice pulled her back to the present and Jill felt the chilly breeze of the February night on her moist cheeks. When had she started crying that much? She shook her head.

“I… no… I…" She couldn’t stop the sob from being released. “It was selfish of me. I couldn't stand the thought of watching you die.”

A sigh reached her from his side of the kitchen.

“And so you let me lose  _ you  _ instead.”

She nodded, having no words to give him, no apology to make it better. The amnesia had all the pain of losing her locked away, and even so, Chris looked destroyed and broken. If the story of it caused this to him, the reality of it must have ruined him. She winced.

“I’m sorry.”

Chris blew out a breath.

“Don’t be. You saved my life.”

She watched him stumble a step backwards, his hand holding on to the marble of the counter to keep himself standing.

“But you didn’t die…”

She responded with a sigh. Was there an easy answer to that? No, she hadn’t died, because she was still alive, breathing and with a strongly beating heart in her chest; and yes, she had died, at least a part of her, if not because of the fall, most definitely later, when Wesker had started his dirty little tests on her, when he had taken  _ her  _ blood to make Uroboros more stable, when he had made her kill and infect innocent people; when he had made her fight Chris.

“I’m alive,” she said. “That’s all that matters.”

But it was no response to please Chris.

“What happened next?”

She licked her lips again, the saliva in her mouth already thick and pasty from all the swallowing.

“He kept my body,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t know why exactly, but he seemed to have seen some benefit in it. During my recovery, he found antibodies.” She rolled her eyes. “Those I had because of my infection from Raccoon.”

Chris groaned at the mention of Raccoon City and the infection which Carlos had cured her from. She chuckled.

“He took those antibodies and…” Her look dropped to the ground, heavy with shame. The next sentence held the truth that destroyed all her work, all she had been standing and fighting for. “He used them to improve his ultimate virus.”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she sent a couple of tears down her cheeks as Chris watched her.

“Oh, Jill. I’m so sorry.”

She shook her head.

“It’s okay. To keep me docile, he used a mind control drug on me,” she explained and sighed. “P30 he called it. It basically turned me into his puppet.”

When she looked up, she saw his fists balled in anger, and the dark shadow on his face suggested a terrifying idea.

“What did he do to you?”

Jill quickly shook her head.

“It's not what he did to me, but what he made me do to others.” Another sigh was released into the cold February air. “He made me fight, infect and kill innocent people, help the bad guys escape from compromising situations. Betray everything I once stood for." Her eyes darted back at his face. "But he wasn't the kind of man who raped people. He considered himself too good for such things, I believe.” She wiped the tears away. “Also, it was much more thrilling to see us two confronted.”

His frown carved deeper as he huffed out an incredulous laugh. Wesker had always tried to push them into confrontation during their S.T.A.R.S. days; in training, during cases; out of curiosity more than of malice, maybe; but he’d never gotten what he’d wanted. They’d remained loyal friends and partners, until that day in the Monarch room in Kijuju.

“We fought?”

Jill smirked.

“Yes,” she explained with a soothing voice. “He was controlling me. That drug, the P30, its effect didn’t last very long, so he had...” Her hand rose unconsciously to the aching spot below her collarbone, where the tubes had once dug into her body, providing a continuous dose of the P30, like an IV drip. "He had placed a device on my chest that would administer the drug to me. But you freed me of it. You saved me, and you brought me back."

An attempt of a smile rushed over Chris' lips, but it failed when it collided with the sigh he blew out. 

"Three years later." They exchanged a short nod. "And even after losing you, I didn't make you my wife?"

Her lips parted so slightly that there was barely room for her to inhale, and only a scratchy gasp was heard.

"Chris…"

"What kind of man was I, Jill?"

What kind of man? How would she ever make him understand that he was the most caring and wonderful man she had ever met, the man who'd raised his baby sister, who had given up on everything for the sake of others, and that she loved him madly for being all of this.

"Chris, I told you we were not like that," she laughed sadly. "Feelings change. You remember those you had in Raccoon City, but ten years later, they weren't the same."

Dark laughter filled the room. Jill perceived the move of Chris' hand in the darkness as he rubbed it over his front.

"I never stopped searching for you and you say my feelings for you changed?"

The intense stare she received from him told her he was actually expecting a reply from her, but was there any other way to respond to it than the desperate sigh that she exhaled?

"Things are complicated, Chris."

She should have sensed that this was not a response he would accept fightlessly.

"Why, Jill? Why are they complicated? It can't be work alone." Before she could counter Chris had already taken a step towards her and all of a sudden she felt his breath tickling over the tip of her nose and her own heartbeat in her ears.

"Tell me the truth," he pleaded. "Was there someone else? Carlos or…?"

"There was never anyone but you, Chris."

She blurted out the truth so unexpectedly that she choked on her own confession. The gasp coming from the man said that he was as surprised as she was herself. After a second of awkward silence, Chris laughed, and it made her heart jump.

"So, where did I fuck things up?"

Those words felt like just another attack. The big hero, always looking for the fault in himself, when he was the only reason why there was a little stability remaining in the world. No Jill Valentine, no Leon Kennedy, no Piers Nivans could have ever achieved what they had, hadn't Chris Redfield been there before, facing purest evil and destroying it in the name of them all. She reached for his hand, lovingly entwining their fingers.

"It wasn't you, Chris. It was me," she confessed, soaking up his attention with fear and interest. "I couldn't get over the guilt."

She felt the shiver when he squeezed her hand.

"Guilt?"

And a laugh made its way into the night.

"Everything I did, Chris. I should be rotting in a cell for my sins." She shook her head and sighed. "And you… I caused you nothing but pain and concern Chris. You suffered so much only because you cared for me." 

If that made sense. He had suffered, on their mission in the Mediterranean sea, when she had been lost on a ship with someone who wasn't her partner; he had suffered searching for her for three long years, when he should have been happy. Yes, bioterror had always kept them from living a normal life, but outside of this all, Chris deserved stability, a loving wife and hundreds of beautiful children.

"Because I loved you."

Beautiful, stubborn and hot-headed children, probably. Jill blew out a hesitant breath.

There was that moment of palpable silence between them, intensified by the touch of Chris' fingertips suddenly grazing her chin. 

"And I still do."

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, a confession of feelings a part of her had long given up on. It wasn't meant to be like that, and  _ old _ Chris knew it wasn't. Old Chris knew she barely deserved to see the sun come up every morning.

"You can't know that! You don't remember," she jeered, out of nothing, holding down all her longing against her heart's will. Chris blew out a laugh.

"Can't I?" He shook his head. "What I have learned about my old self tells me that I can goddamn affirm it! I was a mess, Jill. The kind of man who lives for the battle because it's the only thing he thinks he is capable of, his comfort zone. A man who doesn't care about his family anymore." His tone was loaded with audible confusion and despair. "A man who disappears with women from Human Resources in supply rooms at Christmas parties."

Jill's eyes widened in surprise. And disappointment. And a little jealousy. Chris was making an awkward pause after his confession and she suspected he willed to scrutinize her reaction. Her jaw rolled into a pout as she heard herself huff out a laugh.

"I knew it," she mumbled, eyes rolling. "You denied it but I knew that you and Melissa…"

She couldn't finish her words. He had ignored all her teasings about him and the woman who had been obviously after his parts, swearing to any deity that he wasn't the kind who would give in to a coworker no matter how short her dresses were.

Chris stepped closer, shaking his head in a soothing manner, asking for a forgiveness she wasn't even allowed to grant. He laughed.

"Don't blame me for the decisions I made, Jill," he whispered with a sheepish smirk on his face. "The man I used to be had all the reasons to make bad choices, because he had missed all his chances to be with  _ you _ ."

Her teeth shattered when she began to shake, moved by his words. Jill gasped softly, her hand reaching up to cup his jaw. Her fingers caressed gently over the man's strong cheeks covered in a lovely five o'clock shadow. Uncertain if she was really permitted to be the lucky one to talk Chris Redfield out of loving her.

"Oh, Chris," Jill mumbled as she held his face in a tongue grip, her voice shaken with overwhelming emotion. His lips were squeezed into a pout by her touch. "What am I supposed to do with you?"

He laughed, showering her with hope in the shape of a shimmer in his eyes.

"You could kiss me."

With her lips and throat dry like the wind that used to blow in Kijuju, Jill smirked, her slight irritation underlined by a roll of her eyes. He was such an idiot.

But so was she.

She sighed, gave his cheeks another soft squeeze, and did what she had always wanted to do.

There was nothing careful or shy about that second kiss of theirs, starting with a resolute press of lips against each other and quickly turning into a hungry dance of tongues. Chris reached up to cradle her head in his palms, fingers instantly tangled in the strands of her platinum hair. They exchanged gasps whenever there was some room left between their lips, and Jill began to toy with the thought that, this time, neither of them would just stop what they were doing unless something else would interrupt them.

So, the surprise visitor she had secretly ordered before had better stay the fuck away.

Chris’ touch slid along the curve of her neck and down her back, soon so dangerously close to the waistband that it ripped a cry of surprise from her. It wasn't until she tightly looped both arms around his neck and  _ climbed  _ up his body, though, that he found the courage to descend further. With her thighs settled in the warmth of his palms, Jill pressed herself tighter into him, tasting all the eagerness he had been wearing on the tip of his tongue as she yanked on the short strands of his hair. He grunted in response, stumbling forth and ungently catching her between himself and the next best wall.

“Ouch,” she yelped and was given an apologetic gruff from the man.

“Sorry,” he panted into the paper-sheet-wide space between them and almost touched her lips when he attempted to lick his. “I… Sorry.”

She laughed, a little breathlessly, as she read in Chris’ look the same desire she was discovering in herself. Before she could wonder if it was right or give a damn about the consequences, she heard someone speak with her voice.

“Maybe we should move somewhere more comfortable.”

Chris’ eyes sparkled at the suggestion, quietly telling their stories of expectation and incredulity. He swallowed, sighed, and let his mouth drop back against hers. Once he had Jill tightly secured in his grip, he staggered backwards out of the kitchen — and straight into the bedroom.

With her attention limited to the man, his lips and hair, Jill had initial troubles finding the light switch before the two of them eventually reached the bed. After their collision with the kitchen wall, Chris put her down onto the mattress with utmost care before gently positioning himself next to her — rather onto her — with their legs entwined and their hands running wildly up and down each other's body.

He felt so good. Warm, pulsating and heavy with want, the mere touch of Chris' body on hers lit up the fire of curiosity in Jill and she didn't even think twice before starting to tug indecently on the man's shirt. He chuckled, nibbled shortly on her bottom lip and broke their kiss to let her yank the garment over his head. Once he had tossed it to the floor, Jill found herself staring dumbfounded at him again. He was impeccably shaped, like a Greek god, and she felt a shy flush on her own cheeks when she compared herself to the perfection of a man by her side. The hard, warm sculpture of muscle drew beautiful lines under the soft, natural tan she had envied him for on day one of their friendship, only intensified by the albino-like condition Wesker had gifted her with. Chris chuckled warmly when she ran her fingers along his abs.

"You sure you want this?" He asked when she reached further down, the frown not quite matching the smile on his face. "Because I am. I am very, very sure and I don't know if I'll be able to stop once I take your clothes off."

She blew out a breath, incredulous how someone as handsome as Chris Redfield could still find her attractive. Not wanting to ruin the moment, though, she laughed and nodded.

"Absolutely," she breathed and looked into his eyes, meeting a mixture of curiosity and concern in them. Almost as much as there lay in her own. “I just… I haven’t done this in a very long time, you know? I’m not even sure if I remember how it’s done.” 

He chuckled and flicked a thumb over her cheekbone as he susurrated, “The last time I remember happened in the nineties. If we both suck at it, there isn’t anyone else I’d rather relearn it with.”

And just like that, he blew all the tension away, cradling her in the certainty that she didn't have to fear anything. Just like in combat, they were fine as long as they were together.

"I love you, Jill Valentine. Don't tell me that I don't, don't tell me I can't know," Chris whispered and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. "Every single version of me loves you madly. We always did. Never doubt that."

When had he become so proficient with words, she wondered. Was it really the same man who had once described Jack Norman's flashing moves as  _ Fucking Discoball in the eyes _ ? She couldn't hold back a short chuckle and cupped his jaw, stretching her cold fingers along his jawline to grab better hold of him. After she pressed her lips onto his again, she felt it was the right time to share her well-kept secret with him.

"I love you, too," she said and felt him grunt happily in response.

Her eyes fell shut as he kissed her again, a little harder this time, a newborn passion lighting up and controlling his every move. Jill reached for his belt again, taking her time to unbuckle it with slow moves to push up every bit of expectation. She stopped when Chris pushed his hand under her shirt and his fingertips tickled over her abdomen, a sensation so intense that it paralized her.

He gave her lower lip a hungry bite and descended to her chin and neck as his touch moved upwards, softly caressing  _ around _ her breast under the shirt. 

He could be such a gentleman when he wanted.

"Why so shy?" She asked, voice heavy with urgent desire, and grabbed his hand to push it playfully to fill it with her breast. He smirked, pleased, and softly kneaded her in his palm as his mouth sank back to her neck. 

She felt him press hard against her upper thigh, and the moan she exhaled just seemed to motivate him more. Chris kissed her mouth again, and when Jill ran her fingers over his shoulders, he reached for the collar of her shirt, flipping undone button after button until he could shove his palm underneath from a different angle. He hooked his finger into the strap and pushed it down, his mouth left hers to move to the exposed breast.

And he stopped.

Her eyes fluttered open at the third heartbeat of inactivity, and she found Chris' eyes staring down at her clavicle, hypnotized by the picture on her chest. She bit her lip in awkward embarrassment at the sight of his fingertips nearly grazing the ugly scar.

"That's where…" she began to mutter.

"I know."

Eyes flashing, Chris blew out a breath and raked his fingers through his hair, the tired glance of the defeated evident on his face. He hadn't even really touched her yet. He had been wrong, it seemed, when he'd anticipated that nothing would stop him once she'd taken her clothes off. Jill laughed at the thought, eye-rolling and starting to get cold. Before she could cover herself, though, Chris bent back down and put his mouth onto her skin. She yelped at the first kiss, squeaked at the second one; by the time he kissed the exact spot where the last string of Wesker's evil device had dug into her chest, she was already moaning in pleasure. His breath was warm, his lips soft and his touch so gentle. 

"I wish I could make this undone, Jill," his voice was gruff when he spoke those words against her skin. 

She laughed again, loving him for his devotion. There was nothing more he could have ever done, after giving so much of himself to the world.

"This already makes it better," she whispered and flicked a thumb over Chris' cheek as he looked up and a cheeky grin spread over his face.

"Really?" He asked, with a half-sad half-flirtatious tone in his voice. "You have more of them?"

Jill arched a brow, curiously watching how he pointed at the imperfections on her skin. Was he kidding?

"Maybe I can make those better, too."

Still incredulous, but with a growing curiosity invading her, Jill let her tongue slip out to moisten her lips. As Chris crawled back, she sat upright.

"You want scars?" Her shoulders shook from the heavy giggling she performed as her shirt slid down her shoulders. "I'll give you scars."

* * *

The bright glow of the cigarette flashed up twice when she took the drag, the shine reflected in the glass of the window from where she looked at the never-sleeping metropolis. The apartment was tiny even for city standards, one size bigger than a shoebox, but it had incredible views of Manhattan's skyline. Who cared if she had to sleep one foot away from the toilet? If she turned around, she could see the skyscrapers glow in all their glory.

Claire blew the smoke of the last drag against the glass and dumped the butt into the ashtray before taking up the glass of Scotch. Drinking alone made an alcoholic, they said, but she had felt like having a glass — even if it meant she’d break the promise she had made to herself on Saturday morning. The first sip put a disgusted grimace onto her face as she gulped it down.

“Ew,” she hissed. “Unbelievable that Leon drinks that stuff like it’s water.”

She’d probably never get to drink enough of that shit to turn it into a problem, unlike her friend — unlike her brother. They always tried to drown their demons in alcohol, finding at the bottom of a bottle solutions to problems that weren't problems before. When she'd come back from Sejm Island, dying of guilt and regret, Leon had been there to take care of her. 

_ I know exactly what you need _ , he had said before taking her to a bar, filling her up with rum shots and talking her into sneaking into an amusement park at night, where he'd promised to make the roller coaster work so they could take a ride. It hadn't worked, of course and on top of that failure, he hadn't even held her ponytail when she'd barfed next to a tree. He had taken her home though, very respectfully, in a cab, not even trying to get into her pants that night. Also, funny thing? He had, indeed, helped her, because after waking up the next morning with the worst hangover ever, going for a run and throwing up two more times, she had eventually decided that this kind of mourning wasn't for her. That same morning she had written her report on Sejm, Alex Wesker's experiments and Neil Fisher's treason and she had called Barry to start their search for the mysterious island that no map had ever seen.

It's how she worked. She didn't need alcohol to cope.

That's why it was so goddamn disappointing that she hadn't come up with a better way to shut the voices in Piers' head, when a movie night or a theatre play would have had a similar positive result without the embarrassing side effect they had shared. Perhaps Leon was the only one who could use the alcohol method safely. Perhaps he had always had everything under control.

Or perhaps he just existed to remind her of her mistakes, to blame her for everything she had done wrong.

Claire hummed. She blinked.

And she tossed her phone angrily onto the bed as she yelled, "Then why the fuck aren't you taking my call now that I need to blame shit on  _ you _ ?"

One hundred and eight. It was the count of the times she had tried to call him in the previous two months, always reaching just his mailbox, leaving dozens of messages. From Hunnigan, she knew he was alright, alive and working, so why didn't he just pick up his motherfucking phone for once?

Claire turned around, grabbed the glass again and took another sip, instantly regretting it. 

"Shit," she hissed and poured the content into the pot with the Yucca plant, hoping the burning fluid wouldn't hurt it before remembering that such concerns were needless in case of plastic plants.

She knew he couldn’t do anything about it, that it wasn’t Leon’s fault that Ada Wong had attacked the B.S.A.A. in Edonia and that he himself was probably as thirsty as herself for the Asian’s whereabouts, her phone number or her address, although for different reasons. Leon had always had that strange obsession for the spy, that something that made him smile like a brainless whenever she was mentioned. 

And Claire knew she would be his death someday. A siren she was, one of those beings that sang sailors to destruction.

She sighed, tucked another cigarette between her lips and fondled her back pocket for the lighter. Sometimes she hoped that Leon would find someone, someone who could complete him in a way that it would erase that dark look from his face, all the battles, the deaths, the victories that tasted like failures. He wouldn't be able to get over this by himself, of that she was sure.

But who was she to give love lessons to anyone, after all the emotional missteps she had taken? Neil Fisher among them, currently holding the record for the shittiest love interest ever. Tired of traitors, of rich old suckers who believed she could be bought with money, of guys with wives and children and of those who didn't want any, Claire hadn't had many chances to actually regret that her apartment wasn't bigger.

The whole room seemed to tremble when her phone started to buzz on the mattress. Just a couple of times were enough to disturb her peace and make her dive to the bed, secretly hoping she would finally get her chance to yell at Leon for his indifference

No, it wasn’t Leon. Of course it wasn’t Leon, Claire thought to herself, trying really hard to feel disappointed when another name flashed up on the screen.

_ ‘Did you get the chance to speak to Chris?’ _

No, unexpectedly, she wasn’t disappointed when she saw that the nightly interruption of her thoughts came from Piers. Their phone call earlier had been awkward.

Yes, awkward was a good word.

_ Embarrassing  _ and  _ unpleasant  _ were more good words, too. She chuckled softly, and quickly typed her response to the man.

_ ‘Yes, thank you.’ _

She considered. There lay a lot of sincerity in that short line, but there was so much more she wanted to be sincere about.

_ ‘I’m sorry I bothered you before. I tend to get a little crazy when I don’t get enough sleep.’ _

It was a lazy explanation for her behavior, and she genuinely hoped he'd say  _ it’s okay _ and grant the subject the rest it deserved.

_ ‘’Use a dictionary.’ _

Claire frowned at the phone and laughed, checking her last message for mistakes in belief the young man was trying to correct her. When she found none, she concluded that the message hadn’t really been for her. 

Which didn’t make her feel particularly better. Guys weren’t interested in hearing from her, it seemed. When she was about to tell him he’d sent her a message by accident, she saw he was already typing again.

_ ‘Read a couple of pages next time you lie awake. It’ll bore you to sleep.’ _

Claire heard herself gasp in surprise when she realized he had been writing to her all along, so happily amused by the revelation that she decided she wouldn’t tell him that she didn’t need a dictionary to find sleep, as the reason why she hadn’t gotten enough of it was an evenly boring TerraSave report. Instead, she looked at the bookshelf in the narrow space between her bed and the wall.

_ ‘Interesting theory. I have a Russian dictionary here. Does that work, too?’ _

Her teeth sank into her lower lip as she waited for the reply from the young man, who was typing again. She waited so long for him to finish the text that she didn’t even notice how the ash dropped from the cigarette onto the plain sheets.

“Shit,” she hissed and carefully blew the ashes off the bed and onto the floor, chiding herself for the chaos that reigned in her life. Before she could get up and get the broom, her phone buzzed again.

_ ‘I’m not an expert. I heard that it should be as technical as possible, but I’m not sure if the cyrillic alphabet will make it easier or harder.’ _

Claire smiled warmly at the lines she’d just received. The conversation could have ended there, with a thank you and a goodnight wish, but for some reason she found it entertaining to picture the face of the young man while he wrote to her. Just for fun. Not that she found any real pleasure in it, no matter how handsome he was or how impossibly caramel-colored his eyes were.

_ ‘What do you read when you can’t sleep?’ _

Her right hand pulled the drag to her mouth. Aware that she was risking her sheets at best, she eventually rolled out of the bed to drop the half-consumed smoke into the ashtray. Once returned to the comfort of the mattress, she was almost excited to find Piers' reply. 

_ 'I have the Str-Tha volume of my parents' encyclopedia for that purpose. Reading about the Stroganov family always puts me to sleep.' _

She giggled, wondering if that family was in any way related to the beef dish. She'd have to get one of those volumes for herself too.

_ 'A cup of hot cocoa helps, too lol.' _

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she imagined the sweet taste in her mouth. Rolling onto her back, with the phone tightly sat in her hands, she replied.

_ 'Great, now I crave chocolate and I don't have any here.' _

He typed. He stopped typing. He typed again. He stopped again. Apparently, he was indecisive about what to tell her next.

_ 'I'm sorry :(' _

Claire felt the diversion crawl into her limbs and materialize on her face in the shape of a mischievous smirk. A part of her was toying with the idea of running to the closest store and getting cocoa powder to satisfy her need for sweetness. She settled deeper in the cushions.

She'd go when they'd finish their chat. They were surely close to running out of things to talk about, and the message Piers was typing now was probably a goodbye.

_ 'So, you speak Russian?' _

Needless to say that Claire didn't get any hot cocoa that night.

* * *

"Okay, okay, the time has come," Chris' chest puffed up with the overblown inhalation as he fanned the imaginary tears dry. He swallowed, nodded, and pointed at his left hip bone. "What's the story behind this one?"

Jill smirked, her brows raised into a diverted glare as she watched him strike a pose and exclaim, "Must have been a huge thing."

After an affirming hum, she nodded.

"A Christmas tree in a lake," she said and waited for her partner to deadpan. 

Brows furrowed, the big man began to laugh sheepishly.

"Christmas tree? That a code name for one of those B.O.W. things?"

She laughed at the depressively confused look he gave her to demand an explanation.

"No, it was really a Christmas tree," she clarified. “Oh, but a huge one indeed!”

He grimaced and turned his face down to his hip, fingers grazing the nasty scar on his tan.

"How?" He asked when he looked back at her, at which Jill just shrugged.

"It was Summer 2004, near Barry's home. All I remember is that you said  _ Jill, hold my beer _ . A second later you jumped into the water and everything went red." She laughed out once more. "I think Barry tried to warn you that people dumped all kinds of shit in that lake."

Chris' eager determination to find and heal all her imperfections had led them quickly to a funny game of tickles and touches, and a war for who could show off the more frightening scars.

It wasn't the kind of foreplay she was used to, but the faint contact of fingertips and lips on bare, damaged, stitched up and healed skin had pushed their body temperature to rise and the feverish flush in her cheeks was burning her from the inside out. Piece after piece, all clothes except her panties and his boxer briefs had found a new location on the floor or between the sheets. And so they knelt on the bed, facing each other, and letting their looks sway too often from the scars to more compromising spots.

She somehow liked how he looked at her. 

"I'm sure I just jumped into that lake to impress you," Chris muttered with a frown and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Oh, I don’t even doubt that," she laughed. "But you were the one who got impressed instead."

His lip twitched, and he chuckled.

"A Christmas tree robbery in the RPD. A Christmas tree in a lake. I seem to have a thing for Christmas trees. Maybe it’s time to change my strategy to get you."

The pout on Chris’ face was lovely; somewhere between amused and discouraged by the reality behind the mark that should have been the most heroic act ever committed. If the goal of that session was to heal all the pain, she could heal that one, too. Jill bowed down —one hand on his chest, the other on the mattress— and kissed the upper extreme of the long mark that expanded from two inches below his ribs to his left hip bone, almost grazing the waistband of his boxer briefs.

Chris inhaled sharply.

"Better?" She purred against his skin, and his body seemed to vibrate when he hummed.

"Much better. But not  _ good  _ yet."

And she went on, making guesses on how many kisses it would take her to cover the ugly line where the evil Christmas tree top had once bored into his abdomen and ruined it. She counted twenty-three before she reached the lower limit of the mark, so dangerously close to the frontline to the last forbidden spot on his body. 

The grunt he blew out when she decided not to move farther down but ascend his body on her ladder of kisses lay somewhere between foiled and satisfied, and he held completely still when her lips explored the peaks and valleys his muscles drew under his skin with curious attention. He smelled good; tasted even better; and Jill enjoyed even the tiniest hint of reaction she got from him. She reached his chin and caught it tenderly between her teeth in an attempt to rip another sound from him, causing him to turn his mouth to hers and kiss it. As his caresses rushed down the curve of her lower back and pressed her against him, Jill couldn’t hold herself back any longer and hooked her finger into the waistband of his boxer briefs, giving them a gentle pull.

He let her go on without a complaint, only intensifying his nibbling on her lower lip when she shoved her hand into his underwear, blowing a breath against her mouth when she wrapped her fingers around his length and awarding her with a moan when she began to stroke. One hand of his running up to her neck and fisting her hair, he kissed her as though he wanted to choke her, when it was, probably, him who was choking. He panted heavily when he broke the kiss.

“That good?” Jill asked innocently, without stopping her work in his underwear. She ogled his reaction, bathing in the proud certainty that it was  _ her  _ hand he was just coming apart in. Chris nodded, eyes half-shut.

“Very well,” she said, steadily intensifying her moves. When she yanked the underwear down, letting him spring uncovered into her palm, Chris grunted, and she sucked in a breath in awe.

He was beautiful. Despite all of the scars and the veins that sometimes lay too thick under his skin, he looked like God had come down to Earth to take a walk among the mortals. He was so beautiful that she herself felt uglier and more unimportant the closer she looked. 

Chris placed his hand onto her wrist, stopping the stimulation immediately. The sad, disapproving look on his face was not what she had expected to find.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, concern plastered on her face as she watched him. He grimaced, sinking into a sitting position as he let his hand glide into her palm, and Jill reacted. “You don’t want to continue?”

He laughed, with a hint of ridicule and one of bitterness loading his voice.

“Of course I do,” He answered and made her chuckle. Her heart skipped a beat, though, when he added, “I’m just afraid I’ll hurt you.”

She gasped softly, letting her fingers curl tightly around his hand as her features shifted into a mask of skepticism.

“I had your penis in my hand and you were worried about  _ me  _ getting hurt?”

They locked eyes for a second or two, until Chris’ head sank into a nod.

“Yes.”

She shrieked in laughter and, letting go of him, she rolled back into a lying position, holding her belly. Chris chuckled along.

“You find that funny?” With those words, he climbed onto her, catching her between himself and the mattress. “He’s unpredictable when he sees a beautiful woman.”

Jill stopped laughing, swallowed shortly and placed a finger onto his chin.

“Then tell him there’s no risk,” she whispered, her eyes waving down at her body. “I’m not beautiful anymore.”

Chris tried to speak, but he took too long to come up with another exaggerated compliment and Jill kept the control over the conversation.

“I mean, I used to be pretty once.“ She clicked her tongue in despise. “But Wesker... He didn’t have enough taking my integrity from me, he took  _ normal  _ from me. I look inhuman, like a ghost. Skin, eyes, hair. Everything on me is pale and dull.”

There was something on his face she couldn’t read, something that said he was thinking, trying to make sense of her words. His hand rose, fingers wrapping one of her locks around themselves in a playful spin.

“So, this is his doing, too?” Chris asked in a low tone, waiting for her to respond with a nod. “I was wondering why I didn’t find any hair dye in your bathroom.”

Those words put a leery smirk on her lips.

“You’ve been rummaging through my drawers?” she asked chidingly, doing her best to hold back the revealing chuckle. “Is that the reason why you take so long in the bathroom every morning?”

That was when the tension seemed to explode and they burst into loud laughter. It was a strangely intimate situation, both exciting and frightening to know themselves so close to each other, skin on skin. But she wouldn’t have wanted to be elsewhere.

“You’re still beautiful,” he told her, ignoring her teasing question and receiving a snort from the former brunette.

She looked into his eyes again and said, “ _ Graceless _ . That’s like the perfect word to describe me.”

But the man above her just smiled all her troubles away.

“ _ Perfect _ is the perfect word to describe you.”

A gasp was released and her hand crawled up into his nape to gently tousle the hair at the back of his head. She resisted the urge to yank it passionately, limiting herself to running the tips and nails through the fullness of his hair.

“Oh, Chris." She tried to roll her eyes at the level of brave and brazen his comments about her were adopting, but couldn't get past the intense fluttering joined by a sheepish smirk. Chris, amused by her reaction, laughed a little and let his fingertips graze her temple.

Her lungs filled with air, making her chest go up and press against his. They shared another heartbeat before his mouth dropped back down onto hers, their lips melting together instantly as their hands and fingers slipped along the rest of their burning bodies. Chris' grip on her was as warm and gentle as it was demanding, but he awkwardly stopped or slowed down whenever he approached any spot he considered too intimate, needing her lead to actually  _ touch _ her, caress her inner thighs and everything that lay between the knees and the hipbone. That educated shyness, albeit flattering, felt out of place after they had spent an hour exploring each other for scars to kiss and heal. She knew he was doing it for her, that it was actually hard for him not to rip her panties off her ass, and Jill decided to make things easier for him.

She caught his hand and pushed it past her waistband. He chuckled against her lips, left her mouth to kiss her chin and palpated. His hand was warm, his fingers agile, and after rubbing over her spot, he softly dug a digit into her. She moaned, her body responding very positively to the gentle intrusion. 

Her lips gasped a moan and encouraged him to continue. As words had always been superfluous between them, he just hummed affirmingly and obeyed, slipping another finger into her inners, stretching her slowly to comfort. Her fingernails scratched along the width of Chris' shoulder blades, leaving pink marks of lust on his skin. It was the kind of marks one would accept and wear gladly, with pride, and Chris groaned uncomplaining against her neck. His thumb brushed her clit and Jill cried out and pressed her hands onto his cheeks, turning his face to hers to look into his eyes. 

"Chris," she shrieked gruffly and laughed at how naughty his name sounded all of a sudden. How often had she said it in the sixteen years they'd known each other? A thousand times? Rather two thousand? It had never sounded like that.

Chris didn't laugh. He kept quiet, letting his penetrating stare search for answers behind her eyes, not seeming to find any.

So, he asked again.

"So, are you sure you…?"

Oh, wasn't he adorable? Jill rolled her eyes and pressed their mouths back together before he could even articulate the question. They had waited long enough. Sixteen years of partnership, hundreds of missions, a million handshakes, high-fives, glares and hugs were enough for many to lose patience.

Not for her.

"Yes," she moaned, her breath tickling moistly on his lips. "I am."

Chris inhaled, deeply, as though he tried to suck her up with a stream of air, and pulled his fingers out of her. She pulled her knees up when he carefully slid the panties down her legs, feeling his fingers tremble in expectation. Chris caught her under him again, watching her through keen eyes as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her. So close to being united to him, she couldn't stop her mind from jumping back to her imprisonment, to all those lonely nights when Wesker wasn't there to torture her with his presence, when she could cry alone for everything and everyone she had ruined. Including Chris.

The pad of his thumb on her bottom lip was meant to pull her back from wherever she was, causing her soon to regret letting the haunting memory come back. She was probably the only person in the world capable of drowning in self-loathing when no other than Chris Redfield was about to fuck her. She was sure that Melissa Knox hadn’t lost any thought to bitterness in that supply closet. She awkwardly laughed at the idea and put another frown onto the man’s face.

“I always try to make you laugh but this is kinda discouraging,” he said with a smirk. “I mean, I haven’t even started yet.”

Jill wiped her face with both hands and blew out a breath.

"Sorry, sorry," she howled and licked her lips. "Come in."

Another smile and a brush of noses later, Chris turned her in his strong grip, slipping between her thighs in the most gentle way.

Their lips met when he pushed into her, slowly, bathing in every sticky inch of her warmth around him. Jill was tense, at first, but reminding herself that it was Chris, her partner, her best friend, who was finally getting to know her in a completely new way helped her get rid of the evil thoughts. What could have started in Raccoon City in 1997; had Mister Redfield chosen more delicate ways to impress her, that is; had eventually taken them almost sixteen years, but there they were now, naked and…

Jill huffed out a laugh as her hand swept downwards, realizing that only she was fully undressed.

“You could have really taken the underwear off instead of just pulling it down, you know?” she whispered after breaking the kiss, hilarity filling her fine voice. Her eyes adopted a chiding expression, and Chris laughed.

“I couldn’t wait,” he moaned sweetly, licking his lips. “We’ve waited long enough.”

She touched his cheek and inhaled, opening her mouth when he kissed her once more. He was right. They had waited long enough to become the one person everybody thought they were.

“I love you,” she said and kissed the tip of his nose before her hands wandered down the graceful field that was his back, softly pulling when her hands reached his hips. Chris understood and, after giving her back the words of love, he began to move.

Creamy skin, eyes that stung into your soul and consumed it, a couple of round breasts that hypnotized you with their sway as she curled under you, precious lips of peach and rose moaning in the most angelic voice, and silken hair that shone like light. Chris hadn’t known that someone as gorgeous as Jill Valentine could feel so ugly as she had described it, but it was no wonder that she didn’t feel comfortable in her own body when it had, indeed, belonged to someone else once. Wesker. It shouldn’t surprise him. He had always believed that what saved Wesker from being the ultimate douchebag was his uttermost developed sense of justice, because a psychopath like him could do much good on the right side.

Unfortunately, he was just an evil madman, and he hadn’t only planned on destroying the world on his trip of whatever drug or virus he had taken, he had also tried to break and ruin the most precious part of him as soon as he’d seen his chance to do so. Jill was stronger than any lunatic, of course, but it didn’t mean that she couldn’t get hurt. And once that happened, she shouldn’t just be left alone to heal.

The more Chris knew about his former self, the more he despised the brave Captain Redfield. 

Jill caressed his muscles with playful fingertips and erased all those thoughts from his mind, begging him to stay with her alone. He chuckled in delight, enchanted by the beauty of the woman beneath, and pushed into her once more.

Yes. There was still time for them to heal together.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks a bunch to the people who made this possible: my dearest sister Sofistinha, the great irithyll and, last but not least, the psychologist I chose to be my husband...  
... although I ignored most if not all of their comments.  
I'm sorry.


End file.
